An Archangel and a Soul Walk into a Bar
by Ockermuller
Summary: Gabriel knows he shouldn't fall in love with incorporeal souls, but to his credit, he has a feeling Sam's future body is going to be totally hot. Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel.
1. Why You Shouldn't Touch Strays

**Title: **An Archangel and a Soul Walk into a Bar…

**For: **Gabriel Big Bang! _(gabriel-bigbang(dot)livejournal(dot)com)_

**Artist: **The super Cybel! _(cybel(dot)livejournal(dot)com)_

**Beta:** The amazing Kodamasama! (_kodamasama(dot)livejournal(dot)com)_

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel.

**Genre:** Romance, AU.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.

**Spoilers:** Up until stuff revealed in 5x08.

**Warnings:** Wing!kink, soul-bonding!kink, the words 'soul' and 'mate' are used a lot (this deserves a warning because cookies).

Bending of religious themes for my own convenience, use of Neil Gaiman's technique of capitalizing stuff to make it sound mysterious. Also: laws of physics? What's that?

**Inspired by:** CloudyJenn and Gedry's stories of wings and mates. They always make me smile!

**Summary**: Gabriel knows he shouldn't fall in love with incorporeal souls, but to his credit, he has a feeling Sam's future body is going to be totally hot.

**Link to art: **cybel(dot)livejournal(dot)com/81198(dot)html

*º*º*

**Part 1: Why You Shouldn't Touch Strays.**

*º*º*

Gabriel knows he shouldn't walk here, the Warehouse of Souls… What? It sounds better in Enochian.

It's not really a Warehouse, like the names suggests, but a Plane of existence. His very Grace trembles at its sight, for a creature of Light doesn't belong between the unborn. Yet he's exhausted from a fifty day fight to stop demons from crawling out of the Pit, and the Law of Minimum Effort the humans taught him over the centuries tells him a shortcut will come in handy right about now.

"Sorry, Dad," he whispers before remembering absent fathers don't have a say in anything. Such a long time, and he still finds himself reaching for Him despite his lack of faith.

Not that he hasn't walked here Before. Gabriel had watched as his Father built this place Before Everything Else; he had sheltered the very first souls with his wings and sat beside them as they waited for human-enough bodies, which could house their spiritual energy, to be created.

However, things have changed now. There are no laws that forbid him from being here, but he isn't _supposed to_, and for an angel, that is enough to make him feel like he's doing something naughty.

The place is exactly the same, only brighter and more crowded. Well, as crowded as an infinite place can get. The souls are everywhere; up and down, left and right, all around him in an endless sea of light, shining like supernovas.

Or maybe it's the supernovas that shine like them. Hm… Gabriel will have to ponder that. That is, after he's done watching his nightly rerun of Friends. He has priorities, after all.

Each and every one of these souls shine their own special light, not one of them the same. How sad – _pathetic_, part of him corrects – that most of them will spend their lives thinking they are common and boring, that God has not given them exceptional gifts worthy of praise when their very essences are extraordinary in themselves.

They are all gorgeous, his Father's creations.

One soul's beautiful glow in particular catches his eye as he passes by it.

"Aren't you a babe?" Gabriel says even though he knows it cannot answer. To his surprise, the soul shudders and floats to stand right in front of him. How weird... They aren't supposed to react to angels.

Out of all the souls opening a path for Gabriel, only this one seems unaffected by his powers. It just stands there, as if looking at him. He knows for a fact that the souls who wait here are incapable of thought, of consciousness; they can only feel three things, one at a time: tranquility as they wait; jubilation when they form a connection with each other; and expectation, which starts the moment they are called to Earth.

So why is this one soul still _staring_ at him?

"Shoo!" Gabriel makes a hand gesture that's supposed to stress his shooing - another human thing he picked up. The soul doesn't budge. "Go away, pretty soul. My bod is too hot for you to handle. Truefax."

And it is too. There have been Grace/Soul bonds before, and both parties looked pretty healthy afterwards, but never has an archangel t t aken a soul as a mate. Their raw power would probably be too much for any creature to stomach. Most likely. 99.9 percent chance. Okay, Gabriel is certain enough that he doesn't even want to put this theory to the test.

Supernovas are beautiful, but archangels are like the Sun, blinding and consuming.

"Seriously, go find yourself a bond mate. Maybe then your mortal life won't suck as bad." Gabriel turns to walk away, but his little soul friend just floats in front of him again.

Its glow is so beautiful it's almost hypnotizing. What is it about this soul that makes Gabriel want to stay and pet it?

"Aren't you a special snowflake? Let's see what the future holds for you, hm?" Warily, Gabriel reaches a hand for its aura, being careful not to actually touch it. The soul is sphere-shaped, a little bigger than a baseball and would fit _perfectly_ in the angel's hand if only he would dare touch it. The soul seems to brighten under his palm, and allows him to see its Fate Line.

The word 'Samuel' appears in Gabriel's mind. Before he can contain the flow of emotions pouring in, his Grace floods with a kindness so sweet, the likes of which he's never experienced. A protective love that is not his own takes his breath away, wraps around him, and makes him long for _more._ More of this feeling, more of this soul.

It feels like it belongs to him. Like Gabriel's name is written all over this love, this soul… Giving him the right to take it for himself.

"You'll be so…" This human will be selfless and kind and just. A man who will dedicate his life to another, who will love with everything he is… and none of it is destined for Gabriel.

Even though it _feels _like it is.

The angel has to force himself to step back before he gets pulled in again by the alluring emotions this soul is destined to feel. "You'll love so much… Good for you."

Gathering himself up, Gabriel pushes the soul, 'Samuel', to the side with a wing and walks faster than before. He shouldn't have come here. 'Samuel' doesn't seem to care it's been brushed aside and just floats behind the angel, following him and glowing almost like it's… _happy_.

But it can't be. Souls in this raw phase aren't supposed to be able to feel anything aside from their three states of being – tranquility, jubilation, and expectation. 'Samuel' hasn't found a bond mate, so it can't possibly be experiencing 'jubilation'…

Right?

_Right?_

Gabriel gulps. "Listen, this is where I get off. You can't follow me." Probably sensing his discomfort, the soul jumps up and down in a demonstration of anxiety _it isn't supposed to fucking feel, dammit._ The angel expands his Grace as a warning, something he usually does to keep enemies at bay. The soul stops thrashing about immediately and shudders again.

Gabriel doesn't like the way it keeps doing that. As if it might actually be enjoying the contact with his Grace…

Time to go. _Now_. "Sit. Stay," Gabriel commands it, and maybe the soul finally gets a clue, for it doesn't move anymore. Taking flight, the angel looks back to see if it's doing as he said. 'Samuel' floats, lonely, by himself as it watches him leave.

And – Dad forbid – for a moment Gabriel thinks the soul just gave him the puppy eyes…

*º*º*

"What are you doing, brother?" Raphael sits by his side uninvited.

"Human watching," Gabriel sighs. Sitting on the top of skyscrapers is not so cool when annoying little brothers do it too.

Raphael looks down with distaste at all the humans waking in the streets below them. "What a colossal waste of time."

"Feel free not to join me, Raffi." _Butt face_, Gabriel adds in the comfort of his mind.

Raphael just ignores him as usual. A long time ago they had been close – once upon a time Gabriel had been the youngest brother who looked up to Michael and always struggled to keep up with Lucifer's huge wings. When his Father created Raphael, Gabriel literally took him under his wings as his own charge to teach and love - his turn to be the protective big brother.

Now they are these two angels who sit together and have nothing to say to each other. Look how well that turned out…

"Tell me something," Gabriel begins and immediately has his brother's attention on him. Raphael can be a complete jerk, but he also listens when it matters. "Have you ever had a connection, of sorts, with a soul?"

Even though he narrows his eyes in suspicion, Raphael still stops to consider it. "No. I suppose you mean in a bonding manner?" Gabriel nods. "Neither humans nor angels evoke in me the need to bond. We're archangels, after all."

"Well, maybe not 'bond' exactly," he says, searching for the right words. "Maybe they are just… _special_ to you?"

"My brothers are special to me. No particular human is worthy of attention," Raphael says solemnly, like it is set in stone. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious." Gabriel shrugs. The good thing about being Heaven's oddball is that no one thinks too much of his eccentricities.

While he's dying to talk about what happened in the Warehouse, it also feels like a secret he should keep only to himself. Raphael wouldn't understand, even if he tried to explain it, anyway – in that point Gabriel has developed much more than other angels who have no concept of individuality.

Those feelings inside Gabriel… They were not his own but felt like they were _his_ to take…

'Samuel'. A name burned across his Grace.

Gabriel cannot for the life of him figure out why it had felt like that soul's feelings were directed towards him. He had looked upon many humans' Fate Lines, had known of their love and their pain, but never had Gabriel felt like any of it _belonged_ to him.

"You spend too much time with the humans, Gabriel." Raphael's disapproving tone brings Gabriel back from his musings.

"What can I say? They like my wings." He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

"You changed too much," his brother accuses.

Yes. And now it's too late to ever be the same again.

"You changed too, you know." Gabriel gets up and dusts himself off. "You used to be kind. Now you're what they call an 'ass-hat'. Do you know what an 'ass-hat' is?"

Raphael shakes his head, a serious expression on his face. "Tell me."

"Nah, you should look it up. This stuff is important."

Gabriel makes sure to fly far away before his brother can find a dictionary.

*º*º*

The second time Gabriel finds himself in the Warehouse of Souls, he's so surprise it actually takes him a few seconds to realize where he is. Sometimes, during long trips between Heaven, Earth, The Pit, and The In Between, his wings go auto-pilot on him and take the quickest route available. Gabriel takes the opportunity to meditate and recover his energy.

He tells himself it's best to turn back and go through a different path. Only there's no reason to do that, really. So what if one little soul was being a freak? Gabriel has faced down demons, supernatural creatures, and that entire chocolate-free month after he lost a bet; he won't just avoid a place due to some irrational fear.

He ain't afraid of no future pretty boys.

Walking, the angel decides to go on to prove to himself there's nothing to freak out about.

It's totally not because he wants to see puppy-eyed souls again.

Nope.

In fact, he's not even going to search for 'Samuel'. Maybe there's nothing to be afraid of about the soul, but weirdos should still be avoided. This is just a shortcut. The Warehouse is huge, and he's faraway from the place where they met… _so there._

No looking for freaky, loving souls that gravitate around him like his Grace is the damn Sun.

Gabriel walks a straight line as the souls float out of his way, eyes set on the path ahead of him. Soon he will find the most convenient exit, and that entire incident will have proven to be just an isolated case-

"What t-" Gabriel almost trips over his own wings when a ball of energy nearly crashes into him. The soul floats around him in circles so fast, with a glow so bright, the angel is not entirely sure what's happening at first. Yet the puppyish excitement, the particularly beautiful glow, and the fact that Gabriel's own heart is already racing… "Oh! Hello, you little stalker, you."

The soul seems to get more agitated by the second. The angel is about to catch it to hold it still when the voice of reason – a voice very much like Michael's – tells him Gabriel shouldn't come in direct contact with a weirdly behaving, stray soul; he doesn't know where it's been.

"Calm down, buddy." His right wing gets in the way of 'Samuel's' gravitational circle, and the impact is muffled by soft feathers. When the soul doesn't move anymore, cold worry settles in his stomach before he remembers something like this wouldn't hurt an unborn. Gabriel can't help but smile when he removes the soul from his wing to find it glowing, pleased like a lazy cat that just ate the cream sitting on the table.

"What are the chances I just happen to walk into you again?" Among _billions_ of souls?

Except, the crash hadn't been accidental. 'Samuel' had been the one to come to him, having probably traveled miles from the spot where they parted ways. "Did _you_… find me?"

How in Dad's Name can a soul just up and find an angel? Had it sensed Gabriel when he arrived? Howdid it do _that_?

But of course, 'Samuel' has no answers for him, only more of the same pretty glow. To Gabriel's surprise, another soul floats their way and pauses behind 'Samuel'. Their auras brush and neither repels the other the way it usually happens when two souls press too close to each other.

Gabriel takes a few steps forward to put a theory to test. 'Samuel' immediately follows, the second soul moving behind it and stopping again as it comes to a halt by the angel's side.

"You found yourself a little friend?" Gabriel muses out load. Souls don't just follow each other for no reason.

He takes a closer look at the newcomer. The second soul doesn't glow as beautifully as the first, nor does it act like a maniac – which is much appreciated. Curiosity piqued, he debates for a moment if it's wise to see its Fate Line too but decides it's best to deal with one fanboy at a time.

Just by looking at them, it's pretty obvious they formed a connection, one Gabriel knows to be very common among human souls. "If you're lucky, you guys will be born in the same family," Gabriel reassures them. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, friendships that last throughout life. A deeper link between humans, one that perhaps time and distance can numb but not sever. "Or maybe you'll find each other early on in life."

Or maybe – and this shit actually happens – they will meet only for one of them to die a short time later. Gabriel really doesn't know why Fate goes around pulling this crap on people. The bitch.

Not even soul mates are immune to her bullshit. Even though - among humans and angels alike - a soul-bond is considered to be a free pass to marital happiness, sometimes one of the partners passes away, and the one left behind won't find peace until they meet their own ends. It makes sense. Gabriel can't imagine what it must feel like to have part of yourself dragged from your plane of existence, and then actually having to wait around for your own turn to die before you can be happy again.

A few hardcore religious fanatics claimed only soul-mates should get married, for only those chosen ones can be _truly_ happy.

However – and Gabriel loves calling them out on their BS - there are many couples who had not met in this raw state, had not form any previous soul-bond, and still had a happy marriage, regardless.

"So what the heck is the point, right?" This is something Gabriel started to wonder a few centuries ago – why bond a few souls if the other ones are still getting together and living a good life anyway? Are bonded couples happier than unbonded ones? Is the sex better? Do they get tax reductions?

What's the point? Make a point,_ goddamn it_!

The only thing he can think of as a plus about the whole shebang is that two bonded people feel slightly more connected to each other. As in, one will sense from miles away when the other is sad. Pretty sweet deal, huh? Not useless _at all._

Gabriel was once infatuated with the idea of two spirits merging together – or in more sincere words, he was like a girl watching Disney movies and wishing for a Prince Charming of his own. He remembers quite timidly asking his father if he could have a mate too, please. Dad dearest had just laughed fondly and patted him on the back. He had said:

"_I'll think about it, Gabriel."_

But his Father never mentioned it again.

Later on he was told archangels are too cool – well, too _hot_ – to have mates, and like everything else, the novelty wore off to him, and the meaning behind it was put to questioning.

"Worst part is, despite everything, soul bonding is still a big deal because it's your freakin' essence," Gabriel rambles as he starts walking without checking to see if 'Samuel' and company are behind him. He knows they are. "I mean, who _doesn't _want to be stuck with some loser your stupid soul chose before you could have any say in it, am I right?"

Both souls just follow after him silently. Gabriel is pretty used to talking his lungs out as Castiel just nods along, so this isn't any different.

"All the books and movies and blah about it are getting old too. Trust humans to drool over anything shiny. Not that I liked the angel thing the nineties had going on either. It was pretty lame." Gabriel shakes his head. "Like we need to Fall to get our penises inside someone. Please!"

The angel stretches his wings to the side, and 'Samuel' seems to take that as an invitation to float between his wing and his right arm. The heat it radiates, although weak in comparison to Gabriel's own, warms his skin and takes his mind back to the protective love that blazed in his Grace not so long ago.

His fingers ache to touch its aura again, find out if the second time is just as exhilarating as the first one. _Not yours to take, Gabriel_, he has to remind himself.

"But Balthazar said - Oh, huh, Balthazar is my brother-" he explains before anyone gets confused. Then he remembers: _souls, dude, they can't understand you_. "He said the number of people with wing fetishes skyrocketed after some TV show with angels started airing. So I guess angels are 'in' again."

Gabriel briefly wonders if 'Samuel' will have an angel kink too, and the thought of a human stalking him just like this soul is doing now almost makes him laugh. His mind conjures up the image of a young man blushing and stammering as he asks for the angel's phone number.

Or would 'Samuel' be more straightforward, a no nonsense kind of guy? Gabriel hopes for the former. There is something about the contrast between his strong personality and someone else's shyness that he enjoys very much.

…Not that it matters… Because it doesn't. It's not like Gabriel would ever get himself involved with a human, especially one with a soul that freaks him out a little.

"Better angels than vampires, if you ask me," he continues, distracted.

Looking to his side, he sees the second soul floating precisely behind 'Samuel' without hesitation. The conviction that he'll be followed unconditionally makes his Grace yearn for more time with them.

Castiel used to follow him just like this. When was the last time his brother sought him out on his own?

"Wow, you guys really know how to party around here," he comments sarcastically. Thinking about his brother and the accusations that were made all those years ago always left him in a sore mood. "It's like talking to a dog…" he trails off with a sigh.

No point in being an asshole to the poor souls. It's not their fault Gabriel finally became one of those old men who talk to their dogs since there is no one else that will listen.

His wings fall by his side rather sadly. If there was any actual ground to walk on, they would be dragging all over the floor. 'Samuel', instead of being a good soul and walking behind him, takes the opportunity to bury itself in the angel's wing again - like the pervert it really is.

"Stop feeling me up!" Gabriel shouts, half-embarrassed that the warmth slipping between his feathers actually sends an unexpected shiver of arousal through his body. He flexes his wings, sending the soul flying a few feet away. 'Samuel' doesn't hesitate to come back immediately and position itself by the angel's side once more.

The soul might actually be looking… smug.

Gabriel's lips don't seem to be catching up to the part of his brain with the voice of Admiral Akbar shouting 'It's a trap!', for they smile of their own accord. Only this soul can cop a feel of his wing and actually get away with it.

"I can tell you have a crush on me." Gabriel smirks and resumes walking. "You're totally obvious. Don't be shy; I'm not judging." He raises his hands in a peace gesture. "Thing is, I'm not really into souls."

_Yeah, only the ones that molest you… _His internal voice suggests, and Gabriel has to laugh at this. The idea of getting hot and bothered over an incorporeal being is just ridiculous.

"Nothing personal, of course! It's just that… Well, you have no body, and you're totally boring. I hope you understand we're not meant to be." Except, boring is definitely not the word. The soul has no means of understanding him or answering back, but it still fascinates Gabriel to no end. "You know, you're actually a really good listener. I appreciate that."

Too soon the angel stops a few miles from the gap in the Warehouse that will allow him to leave. He doesn't feel like going away all of a sudden - his wings don't even stretch in preparation for the long flight.

"Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I've got important angel business to attend to, like feeding my dog and not giving a crap in general." He fixes the soul with a hard stare. "Stay."

Gabriel expands his Grace just a little, a rough brush that should pass on the message, 'don't come near'.

What he fears the most happens anyway the moment he takes flight. Disregarding his previous warning, 'Samuel' floats after him, its soul friend following right behind.

"No. I said 'stay'." Wave upon wave of emotions roll off his Grace. Not the fury reserved for demons or anger directed at the creatures that target the innocent. Simple disapproval that, coming from an archangel, should make most creatures turn tail and run.

The second soul endures for a few moments before the pressure becomes too much, and it floats away, stopping at a distance to wait it out. 'Samuel' doesn't seem to be enjoying the contact with his Grace this time around but still tries to hold on, glow raising with the effort. _C'mon_, Gabriel thinks, frustrated. _Go away! It wasn't this hard last time. _

Trying his best to control his powers while increasing their intensity, the angel watches, fascinated, as the soul fights for as long as it can, like stubborn children on a beach who feel the tides getting stronger but still try to stand their ground.

_I'm sorry,_ Gabriel thinks as he watches the soul finally fly away, defeated. Not that his Grace can hurt it, but it's still a sad sight.

Taking flight, it occurs to him that by the time Gabriel returns again, 'Samuel' may have found itself a pretty bond-mate - the one that really belongs by its side and has the right to all those magnificent feelings the angel once caught a glimpse of.

It'll probably be a blond with huge tits too.

_Bonding is BS_, he harshly scolds himself. _I don't care_.

It takes him five minutes to realize his hands are drawn into tight fists at his sides.

*º*º*

The next time his wings take him to the Warehouse of Souls, Gabriel doesn't even feel guilty about it. Heaven is boring, there is no impending doom he needs to prevent, and quite frankly, he's curious to know if his little friend has been born yet.

A part of him likes to think he'd somehow feel it, even though he knows there is no reason for that to happen.

He walks aimlessly for a few moments, the warmth radiating from the souls gently touching his wings as he passes through the path they open for him. Somehow he knows in his Grace his fanboy-soul will find him among the billions that wait to be born. This notion shouldn't feel as good as it does, but if Gabriel really stops to think about it, chocolate also shouldn't taste so glorious, warm baths shouldn't be so relaxing, and fluffy carpets shouldn't feel so good on his feet.

A little too late to start nitpicking about how angels ought to be.

It doesn't take long for his friend to come crashing into him like a small tornado, sweeping his clothes up and turning a few of his feathers at odd angles.

Gabriel catches it with a wing. "You need to work on your greeting skills, buddy."

Maybe it's all the months he's been gone - and if Gabriel is honest with himself, he did miss his soul friend – or maybe it's all in his head, but for some reason 'Samuel' looks even more beautiful than before.

"Did you miss me, handsome?" he asks and lets his Grace brush against the soul's aura, getting a shudder for his efforts. "Always reacting to my Grace, you… _grace-slut_."

The angel can almost see Castiel rolling his eyes, and in the end _that's_ what makes him laugh.

"Where's your sidekick?" He looks around. Not a minute later, another soul comes to a stop behind the first one. "There you are, Sancho Panza!"

It's the same one from last time, although it's definitely going through a Phase. Instead of its usual white glow, the second soul shines blue light as it starts pacing around restlessly.

_Expectation_. It's excited.

"Buddy, I don't know how to break this to you, but…" Gabriel says, an apologetic expression on his face. "Earth is calling for you."

'Samuel' trails after its agitated friend, stopping every so often in front of the angel as if suspicious that Gabriel will wander off as he usually does.

Gabriel sits down on the void as 'Samuel' waits for his companion to leave. The light blue glow slowly graduates to darker shades, which the angel remembers is a sign the soul is getting ready to go.

"When it leaves, you can't go with it. It's not your time yet," he tells his friend, hands casually grooming his left wing. "It's not like you can, anyways, even if you tried."

Gabriel is pretty certain a soul can't just leave the Warehouse without being called to Earth, but he's not about to put any theories to test – especially if it involves 'Samuel', the Soul Wonder.

"And I know you took more than one shot at it, don't try denying anything." Gabriel gives it his best imitation of Castiel's disapproving look. "But if it's of any consolation, it's not like you'll miss your friend. Your range of emotions isn't very wide, you know."

He plucks off a loose feather and puts it in his pocket to throw away later. The now cobalt blue soul almost vibrates with excitement, bouncing up and down in front of him – what Gabriel assumes is up and down, anyways; could as well be left and right in a place with no gravity. 'Samuel' slightly backs away as the blue aura expands itself.

"It's happening-" It's all he has time to say before the soul flies off like a shooting star, without hesitation and without looking back. Gabriel watches his friend chasing after it for about half a mile before losing sight of them among the millions of souls floating about.

It takes two minutes for 'Samuel' to come back, alone.

"See, you can't leave yet," the angel says and pets the soul with the tip of his left wing. If the soul is capable of feeling anything over the forced separation from its companion, it doesn't show. "Someday it'll be your turn too."

As his friend floats under his wing, Gabriel's mind races over the possibilities in their future. Will they be born as relatives? What sort of family will they have?

What if there are complications during labor, and 'Samuel's' friend dies before it can even see the light of day?

And more importantly, why the fuck does Gabriel care so much?

"I'll go see him for you."

Why he keeps talking to a soul that can't even_ hear_ still baffles him.

It takes even longer to convince 'Samuel' to stay this time around, which leaves him to wonder about the possibility of a soul developing a tolerance against his powers. If that's the case, then Gabriel really, _really_ shouldn't come back again.

_Pisha_! Even as he thinks it, there is never any doubt in his mind that there will be a next time.

*º*º*

For the entirety of his trip back to Earth, Gabriel can't decide if he's doing this out of natural curiosity or pointless concern over a friend of a friend. Or maybe he's just so bored out of his fucking mind, visiting newborns will be a thing now. Either way, he's so never telling any of his brothers about his apparently new job doing house calls for _humans_. His business card would read: 'How We Can All Heal the World One Visit at a Time'. And then Dr. Patch Adams would sue him.

Following his intuition and using just a little bit of his powers, he eventually finds himself in Lawrence, Kansas.

_Oh good. Pretty safe, despite the bigotry._

The clock in the hospital nursery room points to eleven o'clock. PM, judging by the silence and the partial darkness lulling half a dozen babies to sleep.

The only nurse around is a middle aged woman apparently so infatuated with her clipboard she hasn't even noticed the winged man who just materialized inside the room.

Carefully, Gabriel plants in her mind the doubt that there was someone she was supposed to have called. Her thoughts immediately go all over the place trying to remember who or why – she obviously had no training against the infamous 'angel probing' - until she leaves to get her phonebook in the locker room.

Finally alone, the angel raises his wings so they won't bump into anything as he searches for 'Samuel's' companion. Once a soul is shielded inside a vessel of blood and flesh, it's harder to look at their auras - especially adults who keep things to themselves. Thankfully, babies don't know the first thing about stopping meddling angels from snooping in on their minds.

"There you are," Gabriel says, and green eyes stare right back at him.

'Dean Winchester' the little card reads.

"Hello, Dean-o." The angel smiles down at the newly born. "You are very red for a little person, I hope you know."

And what a cute baby it is. So healthy and flushed and _alive_, staring at him with huge eyes with no understanding of the creature he's beholding. His first thought is to pick Dean up in his arms so he can feel the warmth of the soul tucked away inside the tiny body, but Gabriel doesn't trust himself not to harm such a delicate child. He settles for looming over him like the creeper he once accused Castiel of being.

"I just came to check up on you for your brother slash cousin slash whatever," Gabriel informs him, and Dean just keeps on staring at him with a blank expression. "If you keep this poker face up, you'll be a hell of player, kid."

The angel gently wipes away the drool from the corner of the baby's lips, the slow and careful action almost soothing to his Grace, allowing him to get lost in this silent moment where he can just forget the universe outside these walls. Gabriel wonders if this is what it feels like to be one of these infants, with no knowledge of the world and nothing to worry about or focus on except for warmth and light.

Gabriel allows himself half a minute of contemplation on the fragility of life, its ephemeral moments and the fleeting feelings and ideas he sometimes experiences for no reason or purpose. Will he remember this moment two millennia from now? Recall the quiet sounds of the clock ticking and the soft smell of the fabric wrapped around Dean Winchester as a blanket?

The baby with the green eyes stares at him through it all, until Gabriel remembers he doesn't do _moments_. "Right, you do that, and I'll just go save the world or whatever is on the agenda for tonight."

The infant won't remember an angel had been there. In a few millennia, probably, neither will Gabriel.

*º*º*

Looking at all the blood on the floor and walls as half of the forensics department carefully walks around the storage house located in the back of a supermarket, it occurs to Gabriel that maybe he _should_ have called the Hunters for once instead of 'going on a rampage', as Victor Henriksen accused him of.

He can tell by the tension in the detective's shoulders and the small trembling of his lips that he's not having a good day.

"There was only one demon?" Victor asks, trying to keep his voice level.

Gabriel gives him a condescending smile. "That's what I just said, yes."

"Then why did you _also_ go after the vampires?" the second detective – Mr. What's His Face – inquires, approaching the angel to tower over him. Gabriel finds it so cute when men think they can frighten him due to his short height. "They were in our jurisdiction."

"Oh, right!" Gabriel rolls his eyes dramatically. "I should have just waited for you guys to show up and let the homicidal vampires run amok in the meantime."

Gabriel cannot stand working with field Hunters. Always bitching when someone else kills the monster instead of actually being grateful the menace was stopped while they ate donuts and scratched their asses.

"Listen, there was no time to call you guys," he continues before Victor can open his mouth and whine some more. "I chased the demon here, he called the vamps, and I killed everyone."

"A demon… called a vampire?" Mr. What's His Face smirks at him in mockery, and Gabriel wishes he could punch the bastard with just enough strength to hurt him, without actually breaking his face.

"Yep." Gabriel nods enthusiastically and leans forward to whisper, "They were in cahoots."

"And how is that possible?"

"They all work for the Crime Syndicate of Amerika?" he suggests with an innocent shrug.

It takes a few seconds for Victor to understand the reference until he finally snaps, "_This is a serious investigation!_"

Gabriel snorts. "Detective, you're what, 20 years old?"

"Twenty-_two…_"

"And I am older than this planet." The angel gives him a sympathetic smile that is just a little bit condescending. "Trust me, it's not the first time freaks from different clans unite to be assholes together."

Gabriel steps forward to leave. Victor bursts out, "We're not done-" but quickly gets out of his way and makes no movement to reach for him.

"Oh really?" The angel grins. "Stop me then." Gabriel opens his arms and stretches his wings in a childish invitation. "C'mon, don't be shy."

Henriksen watches him leave while the second detective fumes in silence. Some other time he would have stayed and annoyed them some more, but sometimes it's best to let their inferiority complex well enough alone, especially when Gabriel has better business to attend to, like buying dog food on his way out of the supermarket.

He passes by a few more agents questioning a shaky guy - probably the manager by the way he keeps repeating he doesn't know how an angel, a demon, and five vampires got into his storage house without anyone noticing – before finding a door that gives way to the frozen section of the supermarket.

Tonight feels like lasagna night. Or maybe pizza. Or _Orecchiette_ with tomato sauce_.__ Ah, yes, that's it_…

Gabriel rolls his eyes at himself. Now he will have to make a stop somewhere in Puglia, Italy to find some decent pasta. It's just like him to blow dinner out of proportion.

He is crossing the detergent aisle when a woman's voice drifts from a nearby aisle. "Dean, put those back. We already bought cereal last time."

"But Mommy, Sammy is gonna need cereal too," a child's tiny voice answers.

The woman laughs. "Sammy will be a baby, Dean. Babies don't like cereal."

"No, Sammy is gonna like what I like," the stubborn boy insists.

Gabriel's wings freeze. A Dean… and a 'Sammy'?

Is someone shitting him?

Without letting him even consider his options, his legs take him under a sign reading 'cereal aisle' from where he can see a pregnant woman with blond hair pushing a cart with her four-year old son standing inside.

Dean Winchester. Gabriel doesn't need to check his soul to know it's him. He can _feel_ it like a shot to the chest.

…

Does not compute.

"What the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles under his breath. Was he so distracted he didn't even notice his feet walking _into Lawrence, Freakin' Kansas_?

The only thing left is for Rod Serling to start narrating over the scene.

Can it be a coincidence? A bunch of chance circumstances? That he just happens to walk into the woman who's apparently carrying 'Samuel's' soon to be meat suit…

No freakin' way. Perhaps a human would shrug it off with their pathetic attempts at logic, but he knows his Father sends signs in strange, sometimes confusing ways, and if Gabriel is here right now, with his friend's body growing inside a woman ten feet from him, it's because God wanted it to be so.

But what is the point of this? What is He getting at?

Gabriel turns around to leave as quickly as possible to his apartment so he can freak out in silence without hitting tomorrow's front page with, 'Angel Screams Like Little Girl in Local Walmart'.

"Look, mommy, an angel!"

Of course. Couldn't just be easy.

"Don't point at him!" The woman covers his mouth with a hand, looking apologetic and nervous. "I'm sorry."

Gabriel puts on the most serious expression he can make without cracking up. How does Castiel sound again? Something like, "It is okay. Children cannot help but be curious."

She smiles and stares at the ground, probably not trusting herself not to look at his wings. Dean doesn't have the slightest problem with that though, looking at them with big eyes and unabashed curiosity.

He can only imagine the image he's making standing awkwardly in the middle of an aisle with his wings pressed against his sides so they won't knock entire shelves to the ground. A tiny voice in his head tells him to just leave it alone, _please_, but Gabriel can't keep his eyes away from the woman.

Unless Dean was talking about a different Sammy, his soul friend will be born soon, judging by the size of her belly; she has to be at least eight months pregnant.

"Is- is there something wrong?" the woman asks haltingly.

Caught staring like a creeper. His brother would be proud. "No. I'm sorry for staring. I was merely curious about the child you carry."

"My child-" The color is drained from her face in an instant. Angels are not known for delivering great news to humans; they usually have no reason speak up unless something bad is about to go down. "What about my child?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you." Gabriel smiles while his Grace expands a few feet around him to calm her down. She looks uncertain but relaxes under the invisible force unbeknownst to her. He almost asks, 'when is it coming', but that's not very serious-angel-cliché like, so he goes with, "May I?"

His hand is raised in an offering she can't possible not understand the meaning of. The woman nods dumbfounded as people down the aisle stop and stare with awe. Gabriel was never able to disappoint a crowd in the past.

Repressing a smile, he passes by Dean who goes for an attempt at grabbing his wing but is caught by his mother instead. Carefully he lowers his hand to her belly and tries to feel her aura. Adults usually show resistance to having their souls probed so intimately – even if the person in question is unaware this is even taking place – but the flow of information comes easily enough.

Mary Campbell. The word 'Winchester' comes right after like a correction; she is married but still thinks 'Campbell' despite herself. She loves the smell of milk and coffee in the morning, she's entranced by the rhythm of her feet as she dances, she prays to God with a quiet devotion she doesn't tell people about.

For Gabriel it's like standing under a waterfall of fragments of memories and emotions. Fear and anxiety merged with an almost unbearable pain are engraved in her memory from the day she gave birth without pain medications. She loves her firstborn more than she had imagined herself capable of. Loneliness takes a hold of her life due to a recent fight with her husband, a man who used to be more pleasant but now is rude, even if he-

And it stops. This last information is as deep as she will let him go.

Turning his attention to the fetus, Gabriel can feel the beat of its heart like a peaceful melody under his hand. He's not a walking ultrasound machine, but a quick scan with his Grace shows him the infant is a boy, like it is expected of 'Samuel', and won't be due for another three weeks.

"I can sense he will be very special, Mary Winchester," he tells her solemnly.

Gabriel can't sense shit, of course. There's no soul inside just yet. But humans _love_ spiritual BS – women in particular die for flattery or confirmation that their children are special snowflakes. And it doesn't hurt to give it to them just to see their eyes light up like Christmas trees.

Mary is flabbergasted as she asks how he can know her name. Her eyes blink at a fast rate for a human while her hands rest on her belly, trying to feel whatever it is Gabriel felt. "He will? How? What do you mean?"

He bows his head in respect the exact way angels of lesser ranks do in his presence. "I must go." _Yes, yes, brilliant! Now bow before the audience and awkwardly leave the stage._

"Bye, Mister Angel!" Dean shouts with a slur to his words normal for kids his age.

"It's a _boy_?" Mary still tries although he already walked away.

Several pair of eyes are trained on Gabriel, committing his face, his size, his wings to memory so they can all go home and tell their families they saw an angel today, _for real_, and to be in his presence was so much more than books could ever describe… Even though he was pretty short. What was up with that?

It wouldn't look very mysterious for an angel to get dog food, wait in line, and then actually pay for it with a credit card, so he decides to take flight and do his shopping some other time.

*º*º*

Gabriel doesn't go to see his friend immediately. That would be a little bit lovesick and pathetic, and angels are above all that.

So he stops by his house and asks the neighbor to take care of his dog. _Then_ he goes to meet 'Samuel', and because he made that stop first, it means he's now a NOT lovesick, pathetic fool.

It's gorgeous, the soul. It always is, but Gabriel feels surprised by this every time, like he unconsciously expects to see Sam again and realize that he romanticized the entire thing, that the soul is not as special as he remembers.

"Met your mom," he tells it, choosing a place at random to lie down. "She's nice."

It's not hard to pretend there is a floor beneath him in the void. All he has to do is imagine it, and his Grace will do the rest. Gabriel lies down and turns on his side, supporting his chin with a hand, getting ready for the waiting ahead of them.

"You know, I sort of… like you," he confesses, absent-mindedly playing with the tip of his wing. "I don't know why. It's not everyday I find something I don't know about."

Sam just floats there in front of him. Gabriel wonders when he started thinking Sam instead of 'Samuel'; touching its soon-to-be-body probably had something to do with it. Maybe he should start thinking 'he' instead of 'it' too, he muses, seeing as how its gender is already defined.

"I guess I do know why," he continues after a few minutes of contemplation. "You _are _pretty cute, and you'll be an extraordinary human. Apparently." Gabriel pauses to considerer his own choice of words. "Well, not 'extraordinary' as humans see it. More like as angels do. And what else? Ah, you'll love intensely. A very strong love… Which is good, I guess.

"But there have been others like you," Gabriel says, and he remembers these humans, some special enough to warrant the protection of an Archangel so they could live and fulfill their destinies without interruption. "I've seen beautiful, extraordinary, and strong before. _You_ are nothing new."

_So why am I so attracted to you?_

Like a moth to a flame. Apparently humans aren't the only ones who like shiny things.

Gabriel lies in silence for a few days. Castiel tells him he's incapable of staying still for too long, but that's not entirely true. Just like all other angels, Gabriel can remain silent and static for long periods of time. He just doesn't want to.

However, there is something good in lying here with Sam. Someone could argue Sam isn't really sentient in this state and therefore is incapable of keeping him company, but Gabriel is certain he'd be feeling restless – and perhaps even lonely – if he were alone in his apartment for days. The fact that Sam is only a few inches away is enough for him to describe this silence as 'companionable', like the soul is partaking in the activity.

"You know, angels… We do love, in our own way," Gabriel tells it- tells _him_. "But it's just sort of boring. Now, _you guys_, though!" He laughs and playfully punches the void, pretending it's Sam's arm. "You guys do it hardcore. Angel-love is like trying to get high from smoking tea bags, while human-love is the heavy stuff, the illegal drugs.

"My brothers who bonded with humans… They were never the same. Zachariah says they are lesser angels now, but I believe they're lucky bastards, and I think they know it too." His voice drops low, as if part of him doesn't want the other souls to hear him. "They have part of a human soul in them, and that means they can _feel_, Sam, just like you do."

His mind goes back to long conversations with theses angels and their descriptions of what it's like to have their Graces irremediably tangled with a soul. They can sleep and dream. The things that once made them feel good now set them ablaze. Sensations are more acute, and feelings occasionally flare up without their consent.

When they are afraid, they're terrified. When they love, they throw themselves head first into the feeling.

They are deemed unsuitable for combat, for what good does it do to have an angel who paces and complains and longs for their mates? Not that these angels care; getting 'fired' from their previous posts means they can stay in the human part of Heaven if they so wish. And they do.

"I've been trying for centuries to feel the way humans do, but I never quite got there," he admits, sighing. "I'm an Archangel. I can't bond; I was made to smite, to lead and endure. My Grace is just not custom-made to experience emotions the way you do.

"And- And that's the thing, isn't it?" His voice breaks a little. "I wasn't made for emotions, but I long for them anyway. Why would Dad let me want something so badly if He doesn't plan on giving it to me? What's the lesson in this?"

For days he tells Sam about Heaven, about his brothers, about his time among the humans and the things he's seen. Gabriel tells him secrets, speaks of his transgressions, and all the while the soul remains unchanging.

He's in the middle of his story about werewolves in South Dakota when Sam starts vibrating slightly, his glow turning into a light blue that Gabriel would find lovely if he didn't know what it meant.

"You're turning blue, Sammy…" Gabriel tells him rather sadly, the nickname he heard Dean use rolling off his tongue naturally.

Sam starts pacing in front of him, restless and excited. The angel sits up and watches as light blue slowly becomes darker and darker.

He's going to miss his little friend. Maybe he'd visit Sam without him noticing, probably while he sleeps since there is no way for Gabriel to disguise his wings, and he wouldn't want to raise any questions as to why an angel is suddenly interested in a common human.

The glow becomes cobalt blue entirely too soon for Gabriel's taste. The soul's aura expands itself, and Gabriel can feel it around him, touching his skin like the tenuous heat of a candle.

"Bye, Sammy," he says, for his friend is about to fly off like a comet. But instead, Sam hesitates and starts bouncing uncontrollably around him.

Gabriel narrows his eyes. "Why aren't you leaving?"

And he needs to. _Now_. A body cannot be born without a soul, and a soul shouldn't remain in the Warehouse in this Phase for longer than necessary.

Sam doesn't want to leave him; he never does, if he can help it. Gabriel considers flying off so the soul will follow him like he has done before, but that could prove to be dangerous. "You need to go alone," he says, expanding his Grace to nudge it away. "If you go with me, you might stray from your path."

Sam just looks even more agitated. Every time he fought against this energy trying to push him away, Sam became stronger and stronger, being able to hold out longer each time. Or maybe he just realized the feeling of Gabriel's Grace is overwhelming but not really dangerous. Now the angel intensifies his powers, the souls around him quickly floating away from the fire that is his Grace, but Sam still doesn't leave.

"Goddamn it, dude-" The angel stands up, wings unfurling to their true length with the effort it takes to control his powers from expanding too much and eventually escaping his grasp. Letting his Grace explode might actually be powerful enough to make Sam run away, and it's something he's done many times when surrounded by demons. Nothing really bad happens to him; after the initial blowup, his essence retreats back to his body while the enemies burn from the contact.

But he has no idea what effect it will have on human souls, or even what effect it will have on _Sam_, who seems to be an exception to all things regarding his Grace.

The angel starts getting nervous as the minutes pass by, and Sam makes no attempt at leaving, even though he's one step away from losing control. "Just… go…" he groans and wishes he could bitch slap him.

Hoping for the best, Gabriel lets his Grace explode, opening a clearing of almost a mile around him as the souls run over each other in a desperate attempt to get away. The angel only has enough time to be sure they're okay before Sam does the exact opposite of what he's supposed to and crushes into him.

Gabriel screams a soundless cry as an energy that's not his own takes him violently, tangling itself around him. His expanded Grace collapses back into him, embracing the soul, squashing him even further inside Gabriel, until the angel thinks he's going to die from the raw power of their essences fusing and melding inside him.

He can feel part of him being removed, being ripped from him, and something else taking its place, soothing away the pain. The soul takes a chunk of what makes Gabriel who he is but leaves behind something else, something new.

Sam leaves his body as soon as this is done and flies out of the Warehouse with a part of Gabriel that he can never take back. The angel can only envelop his wings around himself protectively and try to take control of his mutilated Grace.

*º*º*

It's night in Lawrence when Gabriel tumbles from the sky with the finesse of a fledgling that has not yet learned the difference between his wings and his legs.

He doesn't need to try and find Samuel; his presence is like a beacon from a lighthouse in the darkness, and the angel follows it in a trance.

Gabriel barely manages to avoid colliding against a wall when he materializes inside the room. This time is not a hospital nursery but a baby's room decorated in blue with a crib and a newborn baby inside.

Samuel is tiny and powerless asleep in the crib, and the angel really doesn't know what do next now that he's standing before the human who stole part of him.

"Brother." A voice comes from behind him, making him jump. It's Castiel, and he seems as surprised as he is that Gabriel didn't notice his presence until he announced it. "I saw you all but fall from the sky like your wings were not obeying you." Castiel looks at his puffed up feathers and overall disheveled appearance before concluding, "You are not hurt."

Gabriel presses his wings against his back in a defensive gesture. "What're you doing here?"

"It is Thursday," Castiel offers as explanation, and Gabriel nods in understanding. "Why are you in a child's room?"

"Stuff happened, Cassie," he says, and his voice sounds heartbroken even to himself.

Castiel approaches the crib, his expression hard and unreadable as he asks, "What have you _done_?"

Despite his situation, Gabriel can't help but roll his eyes at his brother's tone of impending doom. "Don't be a drama queen. I didn't do anything!"

Castiel doesn't relent. If there is someone who has zero reaction to his bullshit, it's this angel right here. He still looks the same. When Gabriel gave him the trench coat, it was more of a joke so Castiel would look like Rick Blaine from Casablanca. A walking parody to the only movie Gabriel ever convinced his brother to watch.

Gabriel sighs. "Go make sure the parents stay asleep."

The angel - being of an inferior rank - nods and goes to the room next door where a man and a woman are fast asleep. He touches both their foreheads before coming back to the archangel leaning over the crib. Gabriel tells him everything he needs to know, from his first time meeting Samuel to Dean's birthday to the soul's reaction to his Grace.

"When your Grace expanded to its limit, your core was left unguarded..." Castiel takes a guess, and although it does make sense, it doesn't really offer an explanation as to how Samuel was able to endure the explosion. Or why he's attracted to his Grace in the first place.

Castiel touches the baby's head, and his stoic expression falls apart for a moment as he feels the pulse of his brother's familiar power mingled with the human soul.

"What do you think?" Gabriel asks with unconcealed fear dripping from his voice.

Castiel recomposes himself and turns to him. "The bond is legitimate. I was under the impression Archangels could not bond."

"You and me both…"

It's not something he ever expected to happen, he and Castiel in a child's dark room, confirming his bond with a newborn.

Gabriel doesn't know what to do, and neither does Castiel, apparently, as he watches the archangel take in the reality he now finds himself in.

"I don't understand how this could happen…"

"You were walking among the unborn," Castiel points out.

"I didn't _choose_ to get a bond-mate!"

"No, you only chose to walk in a place no one is supposed to ever go and didn't expect any consequences." He sighs, shaking his head. "As usual."

Gabriel half expects his brother to leave after this but is pleasantly surprised when Castiel stays by his side as he watches Sam slowly breathe in and out. This angel has always been loyal to him, even after Gabriel strained their relationship a few decades ago when Castiel accused him of becoming irresponsible with his duties.

"It feels overwhelming," he confesses, hands shaking even as he holds the crib.

"Are you in pain?" Castiel immediately asks.

"No, it's not bad, per say. It's just… frightening." Like living creatures are crawling in his stomach making him feel _things_, intensified feelings that make his skin hot and unpleasant. Gabriel wants it to stop, even though he spent Dad knows how many centuries wishing for this very thing.

"Perhaps…" Castiel says after touching Sam a second time, "This is a blessing."

Gabriel's eyes are wide with disbelief. "This is a freaking nightmare."

"You're hardly the first angel to take a mate."

"Yeah, but all those other angels had a choice, and their humans said 'yes'!" Gabriel reminds him, his voice reaching a high pitched level he didn't think possible.

Castiel stares at him intensely before coming to his own conclusions. "Our Father made this union-"

"Which I didn't consent to!"

"Neither did any of the other humans who were born soul-bonded," Castiel says matter-of-factly, and Gabriel wishes he wasn't his favorite brother so he could punch him. "And yet they accepted their bonds as the gifts they are."

"Oh yeah?" Gabriel's wings give an aborted flap. "What if I don't want to be fucking _stuck_ with a human?" He points at Sam. "What if _he_ doesn't want this thing forcing him to be with me? There's this little thing they call 'free fucking will' and they ain't afraid to use it-"

"Calm. Down," Castiel commands, and Gabriel is too grateful for the feeling of his brother's once familiar Grace touching his own to be insulted a younger angel is giving him orders. "Maybe you didn't consent to the bond, but there is no hand forcing you two to have intercourse." He raises an eyebrow in question, and Gabriel confirms it with a nod. "As I understand it, even those who chose someone else instead of their intended still found happiness. Yes?"

"Well…" Gabriel scratches his head.

"So, if you stop to analyze the situation you'll realize you're just being a quote unquote drama queen."

Castiel doesn't smile as he says this, but the glint in his eyes makes Gabriel's mouth fall open. What has he been doing lately that he actually got himself something resembling a sense of humor?

"As I was saying, perhaps your relationship with this human doesn't have to be of a sexual nature."

Gabriel crosses his arms, feeling his nerves calm down. "What are you suggesting?"

"That you stay and watch him grow," Castiel says. "With the bond, you'll most likely fall in love with him. And when he's old enough to make his own decisions, according to human social standards, you'll let him do just that."

The archangel looks pained as he muses on this. Castiel doesn't really understand what's there to meditate about; were it him, he'd do anything to stand by his mate, sexual relationship or not.

"No," he finally says. "I can't stay."

"Why not?" Castiel narrows his eyes. "Just talk to his paren-"

"Yeah, I'll just tell them I'm their new friendly neighborhood _fucking Archangel."_

"Do not cuss, Gabriel," Castiel reprimands him. "You cannot just pretend this hasn't happened. Sooner or later, Samuel Winchester will feel the weight of the bond on his soul, and he _will_ want to meet you."

"No, Cassie," he says, but it sounds like a whine from a kicked dog. "This isn't right. If I stay, he's going to feel like he's got some sort of obligation towards me."

"You don't know that-"

"Mom?"

Dean Winchester is at the door, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"It is okay, child," Castiel says, and Gabriel can feel his brother's Grace filling up the room and lulling the boy into a sense of comfort and security. "We mean you no harm."

Dean smiles and gets on his tiptoes to close the door behind him. "You here to see Sammy?"

"Yes. We came to give him our blessing," Castiel continues, surprised at how readily the boy accepts the presence of two strange angels in his brother's room at this time of night and without his parents.

Sometimes he worries for the humans and how easily they let angels get away with things.

"Up," Dean asks, raising his hands at Castiel who lifts the boy in the air effortlessly. Dean points at the crib, and the angel takes him to it, placing him on the elevated bars.

Both angels watch as the boy touches the blanket around the baby, tucking him in like he probably saw his mother do just hours before.

Castiel sighs, frustrated. "Gabriel, won't you be part of your mate's life?"

"No," he insists. "Let him have his own life. If he goes after me in the end, then I'll see what I do about it, and that's that. But I'm not chasing after him if there's a chance he'd rather have a normal life with another human."

"Their lives are so short, brother," Castiel murmurs in his ear, pleading. "We blink and they have lived and died without us. Don't waste this opportunity-"

"This discussion is over, Castiel." Gabriel arches his wings as Dean turns back to them.

Castiel doesn't want to let it go. This is huge, bigger than this mortal's short life. After death, the body goes back to earth, but the soul moves on, which means this human will still be under the bond's effects – whether he likes it or not – and Gabriel will live on for _eternity_ knowing his mate rests in Heaven and there is nothing he can do about it because once upon a time he decided to let him live his own life instead of-

Arms around his left wing pull it to the floor, and Castiel can't refrain from yelping.

"Gabriel." He looks at the boy gleefully squeezing him. "He's holding my wings."

"I like you, Mister Angel," Dean tells him, kissing a feather with wet lips.

"… Excuse me?"

Gabriel picks Dean up with ease, much to the boy's enjoyment, and hands him to an embarrassed Castiel. The child's hands immediately go around the angel's shoulders as his legs encircle his waist in a tight grip. "Take him to his bedroom and make sure he doesn't remember this."

Castiel walks to the boy's room, trying to shake away the feeling of hands on his private feathers. Dean watches him closely.

"Your wings are pretty," he tells the angel, who doesn't know what to say.

"Thank you." It's considered an offense to compliment an angel's wings, but Castiel thinks a human child probably wouldn't know any better. He remembers from previous encounters that humans appreciate praise in return after they offer their own compliments. "Your eyes are also pretty, young man."

He hopes humans don't feel insulted by this the same way angels do about their wings.

"My name's Dean, and I'm this old." The boy shows him four fingers of his right hand.

"I am Castiel. I am afraid I don't have enough fingers to show you how old I am-" Dean interrupts him once more by kissing his cheek again and again. "Why are you kissing me?"

"'Cause I like you-" he says and rests his chin on Castiel's shoulder.

The angel carefully lays the boy down on his bed and pushes the blankets on top of him. Somehow, he finds it difficult to let go, to erase the memories from Dean's mind and pretend this never happened.

The kissing felt nice. He's never been kissed before, nor has he ever wondered what it might feel like.

"Are you gonna come tomorrow to play?" Dean asks, already sleepy, pushing the blanket to cover his ears.

"No, child. You won't remember me come dawn." And with this, the angel touches his forehead, sending him into a dreamless sleep.

He's about to extinguish the memories of him and Gabriel when another idea occurs to him. Castiel has always disapproved of erasing memories - he thinks he'd very much dislike if it were done to him. Thus, he carefully builds a small wall in the boy's mind and puts the memories behind it, where they will be safe until the day Castiel can reveal this night to him again.

And when that moment comes, Dean shall remember him. 

"Sleep in peace, Dean."


	2. The Waiting Game

**Part 2: The Waiting Game.**

*º*º*

What Sam loves the most about his new teacher is the way she smiles just like his mom – amused, with just a bit of white teeth showing between soft red lipstick.

"The theme is 'My Family'. So, who can we draw?" Miss Carter asks, raising a hand to count on her fingers. "Our mom and dad, our brothers and sisters, if we have any-"

"Miss Carter, I live with my grandpa," the girl sitting in from of Sam says.

"You can draw him too." The teacher touches her shoulder and smiles. "Uncles or aunties are okay too, as long as we live with them."

Sam feels a little sad at that. Uncle Bobby doesn't live with them, but it's almost as if he does with the amount of time he spends with him and Dean when their dad is too busy with boring work.

"Remember, we have to draw everyone in front of our house or building."

Sam starts by drawing his big brother. Might as well get the boring part out of the way, as his mom always says. Next he moves to his father, with his leather jacket, and then his mother in a yellow dress. Actually, she's always in a blue apron, but Sam knows how much she likes this dress, so she will probably like his drawing more like this.

His house is not so hard. Two floors, a garden with a fence, and windows above the front door. The problem is drawing his second house, the one in the sky, where he goes while he sleeps. He doesn't do much up there, and his family never goes there with him, so Sam is not sure this second place counts or how he should draw it.

Miss Carter is helping a boy who just had a nasty accident with a tube of glue - and since Sam is not supposed to interrupt a busy grownup, he decides to include this other place too. He figures he sort of lives there half his time, so it's probably okay.

He's not sure what colors to use. The place is made of light and warmth, with no exact colors that Sam can name. The remarkable thing is the peacefulness, the feeling that everything is alright with his world as long as he stays there.

Sam is almost done when Miss Carter comes to check up on him. "What's this, Sam?" she asks, mouth agape. "I said only your house."

"This is the house with my parents," Sam patiently tells her. "And this is the one I go to during the night."

The teacher is not impressed.

*º*º*

The next day both his parents come to school at the request of Miss Carter.

Parents-teacher meetings are usually a good thing; after all, there are only nice things to be said about Sam's behavior. Except, this time, none of the other grownups show up, and Sam has to wait for what feels like hours in a hall he's never been to before.

Sam really doesn't know what they talk about in the teacher's office, and why afterwards his dad carries his drawing to the car by the tip, keeping it away from his body – like it's diseased – but he knows his parents are disappointed at him, for neither look him in the eye for the rest of the ride home.

Dinner is a silent one that night. His dad doesn't come to eat at the table and instead stays on the phone in his office. His mom barely looks up from her food, even as Dean tries to tell her about the home run he almost hit at school that morning.

Afterwards, Dean corners him on the stairs and pinches his arm. "What did you do, you moron?"

Sam really doesn't know.

That night, his dad comes to put him to bed instead of his mom, and Sam is not sure he likes this change. She always sings him to sleep or reads him a story, while his dad isn't very affectionate. "Hey, buddy."

"What did I do wrong?" Sam goes straight to the point so they won't waste much time.

"No, you didn't- it's not-" John stumbles on his words. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sammy. It's just about that drawing of yours…" His father's voice turns into a whisper, like he's afraid the walls might hear them. "Where did you get that from, Sam?"

"What part?" He tries to remember. "It's me, you, Mom, and Dean."

"No, I mean the clouds-" His dad makes a gagging noise, like it pains him to say it aloud. "With the gate and the light."

Sam doesn't understand what the big deal is. "It's where I go when I sleep."

"So it's a dream," John affirms, sitting closer to him. "Did you see it on TV?"

"No." Sam can tell the different between a dream and that place in the sky; he's five, not stupid. "I go there when I sleep," he repeats very carefully since he knows his father can be slow sometimes.

John still insists it's all a dream, repeating it several times until Sam concedes to make him go away.

20 minutes later, Sam sneaks out of bed and asks his mom to tuck him in.

*º*º*

"Mom! Mom!" Sam bursts into the room and jumps belly first on his parents' bed. "I was flying! I was flying!"

"Not this again…" John mumbles and covers his face with the blankets.

"That's great, honey," Mary says diplomatically, gathering Sam in her arms. "You had a dream-"

"No, Mom!" Sam rolls his eyes. "I was _really _flying. It was real!"

"It's all in your head, sweetie. We talked about this-"

"No, it isn't!" And he walks out of the room with as much noise as he can make.

*º*º*

"You can't really fly, stupid!" Dean shouts just before snatching Sam's drawing and ripping it apart.

"Yes. I. Can!" Sam yells back. "Go to hell, Dean!" And he runs to the kitchen to hide his wet face in his mother's blouse.

Sam hates being six years old sometimes. No one takes him seriously, his dad would rather spend time teaching Dean how to work on a car than taking Sam fishing, and his mom looks less and less pleased every time he shows her another drawing of angels.

"Sweetie, we talked about this," Mary says, kissing his head as she tucks him in his covers that night. She spent a long time trying to mend his drawing back to its former glory, even though Sam already decided to never forgive his brother, _ever._ "Humans can't fly; we don't have wings."

"I _know_ we don't have wings," Sam replies with an impatient sigh. The frustration talking to adults causes is sucking the energy out of him. "But I _can_ fly. I dreamed about it, Mom! I felt it; I was really flying!"

"It was just a dream, Sammy." She gently brushes a lock of hair from his face. "You know those aren't real."

The boy turns to his side, facing the wall. "Yes, they are…" he whispers.

"Sammy-"

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

Mary hesitates for a moment before turning off the lights and leaving.

If no one believes him, Sam just has to prove to them he's right. And then everyone will have to apologize, and Dean will be totally jealous.

The perfect opportunity presents itself the very next day. Climbing to the roof isn't much of a challenge for Sam. After all, he's not afraid of falling; it's not like he can't fly. The only problem is waiting for his mother and brother to come out to the garden to start watering the plants.

Sam grins. He can already picture their faces.

From his bedroom window he can see Dean dragging a hose across the yard, followed closely by a cheerful Mary. Sam runs to the attic and opens a rusty window with just a bit of persistence. Climbing up, he positions himself so they can see him just right. The roof tiles don't look as reliable as they do from the ground, but they hold up under his feet – which is good, for he'd rather leap on his own, not slip by accident.

He breathes in deeply. "Hey, Mom!" The boy waves his hands excitedly. "Look at me, Mom!"

"_Sam_?" Mary drops the flowerpot she's holding in an instant. Dean looks terrified as he runs to find his father. "No, Sam! John! JOHN!"

Mary raises her arms to catch him at any moment, palms open in a universal sign for 'stop'. An instinctive or automatic action - if Sam really fell, arms would do nothing to help the impact.

"Sam, baby!" Mary screams. "Don't move! _Don't_. _Move_."

"Calm down, Mom!" Sam really doesn't like the stress he's putting his mother through, but it can't be helped.

He closes his eyes to enjoy the gentle breeze caressing his hair, carrying it away from his forehead. This is exactly like in his dreams. The absolute certainty that he will never hit the ground is exhilarating - so much so that Sam feels like there's nothing he can't do as long as he's flying.

Sam conquers the world when he glides across the skies in his dreams. He's all-powerful and brave, his trustworthy – although invisible - wings an extension of himself, restless to feel the wind between theirs feathers.

He can already taste the feeling of his body suspended in air. "I'm gonna fly, Mom!"

"Oh, baby, don't, _don't_-" she cries, covering her mouth with both hands and falling to her knees at the sight of her youngest son rising a foot in the air. "_No, oh God_-!"

John appears in the attic window and tries to reach for him, but Sam is already falling. The insane, acute horror of his small body hitting the ground with a loud crack drives Mary to scream, throwing herself on top of her son.

Dean cries behind his dad.

*º*º*

"Son." The doctor looks from the clipboard to the boy lying comfortably on the hospital bed. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I jumped," Sam explains around his oversized chocolate bar. "From my roof."

Like all others before him, the doctor looks doubtful but goes back to analyzing his exams. This is the fourth doctor they've seen since Sam got to the hospital this morning. He concludes they must all be really dumb if they make him take a bajillion tests with fancy names - like 'CAT scan', 'non-contrast CT', and 'MRI' - when they can't understand what the heck the exams results show. On TV, the doctors barely glance at them before finding out what's wrong with the patient.

Whatever, as long as they don't use needles…

"You're fine," the doctor says, turning to talk to Mary who just came back from the bathroom.

And fact is, he really is. Not a scratch, not the minor memory of pain, not even a headache. His mother called it a miracle. Uncle Bobby called it sheer dumb luck.

All the men in white coats called it the most exciting thing since sliced bread.

*º*º*

Eventually, after making him retell the story more times than he can count, they let him go under suspicious eyes and awed stares from the hospital staff.

"If he shows any signs of confusion, bring him back right away," Sam's second doctor tells his family. "Headache, nausea, dizziness…"

"Mr. Winchester, can we have a word?" two men dressed in black suits call from the hallway and everyone tenses up but do nothing to avoid them.

"You guys go ahead, buy something from the coffee shop." John gives Sam a pat on the head and walks to the suspicious men. Sam entertains the idea they're top secret FBI agents that his father works undercover for.

John catches up to them 20 minutes later. The brochure in his pocket reads, 'How do I know if my children are soul-bonded?"

*º*º*

So, turns out Sam can't fly. Total bummer.

However, Dean quits making fun of him and doesn't bring up the word 'flying' near their mother with a ten-foot pole. So, not all is lost.

The weekend after the incident, his mom and Uncle Bobby drive him for three hours to a place they call the Aurora Research Institute, which is a branch from the Hunters Organization. Sam doesn't know all that much about the Hunters, but they're really awesome in the movies Dean likes to watch.

He sort of expects cool looking people doing secretive things with high-tech machines, but what he gets is a children's recreation room and a nice lady with red hair.

"Sam, this is Anna," his mom says, pushing him slightly towards the woman. "She's going to ask you a few questions, just like I told you, okay?"

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Anna greets him, and he already likes her for not using the annoying little voice grownups think children like. "Your mom will be waiting in the hall, okay?"

Sam shrugs. Anna gives him crayons and drawing paper and tells him to draw anything he wants while they talk. He starts with the neighbor's dog.

"Do you know why you're here, Sam?" she asks, pulling a little paper notebook from her pocket.

"Mom says you research things, and you want to ask me questions about my dreams and stuff."

She nods. "I'm a psychologist – a doctor - and I also do research about soul-bonding for the ARI," she goes on about what she researches, and Sam listens with polite attention, but he hopes she'll get on with it soon, before he falls half-asleep. "Do you know what a soul-bond is?"

"Yes. It's when two people are joined by fate," Sam recites the exact words Mary has been telling him since he can remember. "It's on all the shows my mom watches."

"And what do you think about it?"

Sam stops to think for a moment. "I guess it's a good thing. Dean says it's girl stuff, but I think it's cool."

"I think it's cool too, Sam," Anna says with a smile, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. "That's why my job is to figure out if other people are bonded and then help them find their mates."

It doesn't take a genius, especially from the way she looks at him with a sort of awed expression. "You think I am?"

"I don't know yet. That's what we're here to find out."

No way. Bonding is something that only happens to other people. People who are not you or your relatives.

She reads her notes before continuing, "Why did you tell your parents you have wings?"

"'Cause I _do_ have wings; I even feel them sometimes." He decides to tell her the truth. She's a doctor of sorts; she can't laugh at people. "I fly with them when I sleep."

Anna holds her breath as she asks, "What do you mean, 'feel them'?"

He stares at his drawing, trying to find a way of explaining it. "Like a leg or an arm."

"Where do you think they go once you wake up?"

Sam shrugs. "They are invisible."

"Have you ever met an angel before, Sam?" Anna doesn't take her eyes from him as her fingers write expertly in the notebook, like they have a mind of their own. It's kind of impressive. "They can't hide their wings. It can't be done."

"Yeah, I heard that on TV once," Sam says carefully, seeing what she's getting at. "But I'm not an angel. I just have wings."

"Then why couldn't you fly?" she asks, and it hurts to hear the words.

His wings were supposed to be trustworthy, invincible. But they let him down, and that feels worse than being unable to fly. Well, it's a close tie.

"I don't know," he admits and hopes they can go to the next topic.

"There's this thing about angels, Sam. They can't do anything to us unless we let them," she cautiously says, watching for his reaction. "Did an angel ask you to do something?"

"I never talked to an angel before." He shakes his head. "Mom says not to bother them."

Anna stops to look at what she's writing, and Sam notices too late that he's painting the dog's fur brown when it's actually black.

"You mother tells me there is a place you go to when you sleep…" she reads from her notes. "What exactly do you do there?"

"Nothing much," he offers as explanation, because in reality, he couldn't explain it a year ago, and he still can't now. "There's nothing to do. I just hang out, I guess. It's quiet."

She nods. "Is there anyone else there?"

Is there? Can the shapeless lights he thinks of as people really be just that? "I think so, but I don't remember meeting them."

Anna seems at a loss as what to ask. "And you like this place?"

Sam almost slams the crayon against the table. "I love it!"

She perks up at this reaction. "But… why do you love it? You said there's nothing to do."

Yeah, he can see what she means… "Well, there isn't, but it's still the best place _ever_!"

"Tell me more about it. I want to know what makes it so special."

There is light and warmth. "There's a really tall gate, and it's in the sky 'cause you have to fly to get up there." He knows that everything he loves can be safe inside those gates. "And, well…" There is _nothing_ wrong there. Ever. But he can't say the words or explain why, so he says, "You wouldn't understand. You have to go there to know."

Anna tries getting more information on this place, but he can't form entire sentences that actually make sense of what light and warmth feel like _inside him._

She asks about his other dreams, feelings, fears, favorite cartoon character, and Sam thinks she doesn't know what else to ask until she says, "Do you ever feel like there is someone calling for you?" And it's the way she phrases it that gets Sam's full attention.

Not someone actually calling for him. The _feeling_ that someone is.

"Sometimes, I just feel like… like when I promise my mom I'll be back at noon, but I'm fishing at the lake with Dean, and then I realize I'm late, and I have to run back because I know she's waiting for me."

*º*º*

The head researcher presses the switch that enables them to listen in on the conversation in the other room. The boy's voice immediately ceases.

"This has to be the best description of a soul calling I have heard in years."

"Impossible. Were he mated to an angel, they'd have come here to claim him by now. Besides, angels don't take children as mates. They need consent, there are formalities…"

"I believe the bounding happened _before_ he was born."

"… An angel bounding with an Unborn? What kind of a world are we living in?"

A third researcher starts pacing around the room. "They can't do that! They need the human's consent. How can a soul say yes if it doesn't even know the word?"

For once, they really don't have a clue.

*º*º*

Sam wakes up the next day with the sound of voices arguing downstairs. The clock on his nightstand has a '9' on it, which means it's an hour past his waking up time and someone should have come up for him by now.

He gets up and goes straight to Dean's room. Sure, his brother is a total bully, but he always let Sam stay with him when he's scared, even if he does call him a girl before making more space for him to climb on the bed. The room is empty, the bed left unmade like his brother completely forgot how scary their mother can get if Dean doesn't make his bed neat before breakfast.

From the top of the stairs, he can hear his father's angry voice and Mary's reassuring tone, followed by a third voice he doesn't recognize. He's not so sure he wants to walk into a grownup's discussion, but Uncle Bobby always said his curiosity is both a strong quality and a terrible flaw.

All voices stop the moment he enters the living room. Standing there is an angel, Sam's first, and he looks honorable and powerful and… a little snobby. His wings are a grayish white, making a huge contrast with his black skin, and Sam has to remind himself to look away from him since Mary tells him on a regular basis to _never_ stare at angels.

Whatever they were arguing about seems to be settled, for his mom opens her arms in invitation.

"Where's Dean?" He hugs her tightly and takes sneak peeks at the feathers brushing the floor.

"He went out with Uncle Bobby to buy milk, sweetie." Mary smiles at him and turns him to the angel. "This is Uriel. The Institute asked him to come meet you-"

"Do I really have a bond with an angel?" He shouts, excited. Anna - and those other people who appeared later - didn't give him any specific details, but they said this could be it and that they'd send a 'specialist' to check up on him. "Can I _fly_?"

"No, child, you cannot." Uriel narrows his eyes at him like he finds particularly weird the association of 'bond plus angel equals flying'.

"Are you a 'specialist'?" Sam timidly asks.

"I'm available," the angel answers, sounding bored, and Sam can tell he really doesn't want to be here.

He wants to ask about the place he goes to when he sleeps, ask if it's really Heaven like everyone suspects it to be, but his mom is already talking again.

"Uriel is going to put his hand on your head and do angel things to examine the bond, okay?" Mary tells him, and John crosses his arms, huffing.

"Is it going to hurt?" He gives her the suspicious eyes.

"Course not, honey! You won't even feel a thing."

"I need your consent so I can touch your aura," Uriel tells him.

Sam blinks up at him. "My what-"

"Just say 'yes', honey."

"Yes?" he tries, and the angel is already reaching for him.

He doesn't sense anything different. Only the small feeling that he suddenly recognizes Uriel from somewhere, except he has never met one of his kind before.

"Congratulations," Uriel says, letting go of his head. "You have a perfectly healthy, perfectly boring human child."

"And the bond?" John nervously asks.

"It is unbreakable." The angel looks at Sam again. "Like all other bonds. What a surprise."

"This is absurd!" John shouts, and Mary tries to calm him down. "An angel can't just force a bond with a child! I want this bastard found-"

"Our Father made this union," Uriel slowly says, and there is a presence in the room, like an energy trying to intentionally frighten them, and Sam feels like he can almost touch it with his fingers. "Do not presume to know better than your God."

Mary closes her eyes, trying to calm down. "Can you at least tell us who it is?"

"I could not tell you, even if I knew," the angel says, and Sam believes him. "That's a decision for his mate to make."

Sam walks around the room, trying to figure out where that weird energy came from and where it has gone to.

"What God has joined together, let no man separate." And with this, Uriel disappears before their eyes. Sam squees.

*º*º*

Bobby buys him ice cream and lets him sit on the hood of his truck, but Dean still isn't happy.

"C'mon," Bobby sits next to him. "Spill the beans."

Dean chews unhappily on his melting ice cream. "I want a bond too," he confesses. This is something he never told anyone before. His father would just repeat again that it's girl stuff, and that would only make it worse.

"What for? You don't need this stuff to be happy, kid," Bobby tells him with a shrug. "Your mom and dad don't have one, and look how good they are for each other."

"I guess…"

"Just because you don't have some fancy-pansy bond it don't mean you ain't gonna get someone to love one day," he says, and it makes sense.

Dean smiles at him.

And still wants a bond – more than he wants a puppy or a Wii - despite Bobby's words.

*º*º*

"Mary! Oh My _God_!" Their neighbors all but jump her the moment she opens the door.

"Is it true?"

"We came as soon as we heard!" The group of women come in with plates of pies and treats. "This is spectacular!"

"_I know_!" Mary shouts, excited, as they all hug each other, and Sam is very confused by this behavior.

One of them notices him standing there and grabs him by the arm before he can flee. Sam can't breathe as Mary's friends squeeze the air out of him and plant disgustingly wet kisses all over his face.

They go outside and sit around a garden table, talking cheerfully. Mary gives him two slices of pie before shooing him away. "Sweetie, take this to your brother and go eat inside."

The next moment she's already laughing with her friends, having completely forgotten about him.

"What is it like to have a bounded son?" Sam can still hear them say as he walks away.

"There was this angel in the supermarket when I was eight months pregnant with Sam," Mary starts, and this really catches his interest. She tells the story, and by the time she's done, her friends aren't the only ones shocked.

"You think he sensed Sam was special?"

"He _said_ the words," Mary confirms.

They start talking about ARI, and Sam goes in search of his brother. He finds Dean sitting in a corner of the garage, playing with their father's tools.

"Mom's friends brought pie," he says, putting Dean's plate on the table.

Dean is quiet for a moment before finally saying, "This just shows soul-mate stuff is for girls."

Sam pouts. "No, it isn't. Anyone could have a soul-mate."

"Whatever. Your _soul-mate_ is probably someone ugly and fat anyway!" his brother practically shouts, and Sam suddenly hates him.

"You're just jealous 'cause I have something awesome, and _you can't have it_!"

They don't talk again for three months.

*º*º*

As Sam nurses a fixation on all things angel, the general population becomes more and more fascinated by his intangible bond – which everyone assumes will be made strictly of human-on-human action. Aside from family and his therapist, he doesn't tell anyone his future mate is ethereal. If this is the reaction he already gets, he can't begin to imagine what would happen if the 'angel' part came to the surface. The religious fanatics would probably put him on a pedestal.

At first, the news spreads on its own. Or how his father so nicely puts it, "freaking gossipers". Mary's friends tell their friends who tell their friends who tell their co-workers, and in no time, everyone and their moms know Sam Winchester – whoever the hell he is – is soul-bonded.

Watching the news one boring afternoon, Sam learns that researches show only two percent of the world population is soul-bounded, making it a special occurrence that society – and chick flicks - will never get tired of making a fuss about.

That is, until Sam learns basic mathematics and finds out that two percent of seven billion is actually fourteen freakin' million…

_Where the Hell_ are all those people? Maybe some of them should move to Kansas, since Sam is apparently alone in the entire State.

It doesn't take much convincing from his parents for Sam to go to therapy with Anna once a week. She turns out to have a small office in town, which just works amazingly since she already knows the nature of his bond.

Soon enough, when he's 13, and they have had endless sessions talking about the subject, Sam's angel becomes The Angel. His special one; the one that matters.

Sam has urges that make no sense – for a normal human – so he and Anna come up with a theory about them. The overbearing desire to fly, the compulsion to stuff himself with candy and chocolate, the yearning for an energy – a heat – that would come from inside him and take over the room, marking it and making it safe… These are all things that belong to The Angel - his feelings and cravings, and what Sam feels is but a strong reflection of them.

The urges are powerful and overbearing, and they come and go as they please. Sam wonders if The Angel can feel the human part of the deal too, and if he ever just suddenly wanted to play 'The Sims' all afternoon like Sam has before.

Strangely enough – or maybe not, considering it's an angel he's dealing with here – he never has any sexual urges. Not ones he can point out as belonging to The Angel, anyways; just classic, a-breeze-can-make-me-hard, teenage hormones induced urges.

He finds it particularly interesting that The Angel is such a chocolate addict when Sam never cared much about sweet food. Most of the strange things he feels seem like generic angelic stuff, but this is probably the most distinctive one, the one that makes The Angel stand out from others of his kind.

Sam can image himself going from garrison to garrison announcing with a megaphone, "All angels with a sweet tooth, please step forward."

All in all, he considers The Angel like a friend – of sorts, like his grandparents; Sam heard much about them and feels affection for them, even though they never met.

It has occurred to him, but he never stopped to consider or take the thought seriously, that bonds are of a romantic nature. All bonds. Including human/angel ones.

This reality comes crashing into him one morning when he's walking to the kitchen and sees a few pamphlets sticking out from under the front door. Sam doesn't even have to read the first lines to know it's from the Jenova's Witness, the 'religious nut jobs' – according to his father – the blue and white lines emanating from an image of Jesus Christ's face like sunbeams being a dead give-away.

Sam takes them with curiosity, reading the titles carefully and thinking someone _chose_ these specifically for him and then drove to his house so he could have them.

The first pamphlet is entitled, "Why Should I NOT Have Sex Before Marriage". Sam starts reading from a random paragraph, "_ugly and destructive and will lead to misery and regret_". He skips a few lines, not really interested. "_We have become impatient, and we suffer the consequences in terms of personal debt, emotional trauma, sexually transmitted infections, and family breakdown._"

It's just the usual stuff he sometimes hears from preachers on the streets. He puts this one aside and takes a look at the two other ones, which are about the same subject – "The Purity of Soul-Mates" and "Why Soul-Mates Will Never Find Happiness Apart". Sam starts with the former one because of a drawing on the cover of two silhouettes looking at each other with a thread tying them together.

Halfway through it Sam can't breath. Chastity, marriage, fidelity, the gift of true love, being chosen for a fate greater than his life… All these years living with the bond, cataloging its effects, wondering what his mate is like, and never has he considered that God united him with an angel so he could _have sex_ with them.

He's in the middle of a sentence - "_the one who holds a piece of your soul is waiting for you. Why would you __consciously __disappoint them so completely_" – when someone takes the pamphlets from his hands.

"Not this crap again-" John looks through them and shouts, "Mary!"

Sam spends the rest of the day in a daze, not sure what to think. Before he goes to sleep, he can hear his father shouting on the phone in his office. "You people stay the hell away from my son-"

It's the first time the bond makes him feel sick.

*º*º*

Sam is 14 when it happens. Until that night, he had touched himself on a few occasions, mainly during Sunday showers where he could take his time without Dean banging on the door telling him to hurry up. All those times it had happened without much preparation while his mind had been more focused on the urgency for release - trying to remember glimpses of breasts he caught on TV a few times - than on taking his time and cooking up a scenario or a person.

He's lying in bed, awake, trying to get some sleep before the history test tomorrow, when he feels himself getting hard for no reason other than 'why not'.

It seems pretty gross to jerk off under the covers, but it's late, and Sam is too tired to go to the bathroom, so he covers his head with the blanket and tries not to make a sound as he shifts under it.

His hands are already working before he has a chance of deciding what he wants to think about, so he lets them do their thing while his mind dozes off. It suddenly occurs to him that maybe The Angel can feel this, just like Sam can feel his mate's urges.

He feels uncomfortable all of a sudden, but can't stop the thoughts from coming. If he ever has sex with his mate, it'll probably be weird angel sex. He remembers what dreams of Heaven feel like; that familiar feeling of warmth pours into him like water, filling him up, completing him. Sam imagines a cocoon of feathers pulsating around him, keeping him close to his mate's body while Sam pushes in and out of them with abandon, and there is nothing sexy about this except for the part where he's coming harder than ever before.

For a moment he can feel something in him _expand_. Like a force, an energy, and Sam thinks he has felt this before - a long time ago. It lulls him to sleep, and that night he dreams of following an angel around a big empty space with Dean by his side.

*º*º*

Anna asks him one afternoon who this Jessica girl he keeps talking about is, and the way his ears turn red tells Anna all she needs to know.

Jess is so funny and pretty and smart, and Sam might have developed a crush on her the moment she told him she will never recover from the unfair cancellation of 'Firefly'.

According to Dean, he's in geek-love with her.

Sam tries to describe his friend without giving himself away, but Anna just gives him a sly smile that Sam would pay to never see on his therapist again.

Dr. Milton is pretty much the only one he feels comfortable with these days – well, the only one who won't tease him mercilessly. Sam and his dad are always either fighting or not speaking to each other, and John has made it clear he doesn't want to hear the words 'soul' and 'mate' in his house anymore.

His mom is definitely more supportive on this subject and keeps track of all sudden changes in Sam's behavior that indicate the bond is getting stronger. They constantly talk about his grades and college, and yet Mary avoids asking anything that might lead to information on Sam's romantic life.

It makes him sad that she might think less of him if she knew that, although Jessica isn't his mate, sometimes he wishes she was.

"So, this girl…" Anna starts, crossing her legs.

"She isn't my mate…"

"And this bothers you?" Anna looks at him with her speculating look, the one she uses while paying attention to his body language. Even after all these years of therapy, it still makes him uncomfortable.

"I don't know," he starts but thinks better of it, deciding to level with her. "Yes."

"Sam, by now you probably know that it's okay if you want to wait for The Angel," Anna says, and Sam is actually surprised. She rarely gives direct advice, preferring to talk Sam into finding his own. "And it's also okay for you not to."

"Is it?" His voice comes out louder than he intended, and he sounds frustrated even to himself. "Is it okay? God gave me this thing to be monogamous and faithful and stuff, and it's okay for me to be with someone else?"

Sam isn't religious in any way, shape, or form. But this is something he's so sure of that it almost scares him to think of doing otherwise. Being with someone else feels like a betrayal.

She raises an elegant eyebrow. "God also gave you the ability to love other people."

"And what, I'm just gonna date Jessica while I wait for my mate to show up? All the time thinking it's just temporary, that I'm just gonna break up with her the moment I finally meet them?"

Because he knows he will. The moment The Angel finally shows up, something in him will be complete, and Sam can't promise he will love Jessica enough to stay with her. 

"I don't want casual, Anna," he finally admits before she can suggest it.

A huge part of him feels terrible about 'being an emo' about a crush when he should be more focused on the people around him. His parents are going through a rough patch in their marriage due to his father's drinking, and Dean might not graduate from high school at this rate - after repeating a year - and all Sam can think is, _My soul-mate is someone I don't even know._

Part of him wishes Jessica was his mate - really! But the more he thinks about it, the more _wrong _it feels. Sam's mate is powerful and agitated, full of energy and… sassy, although this last one is more of a guess - a gut feeling he can't ignore.

On the other hand, Jess is cute and a bit shy, like himself. Her perfume is subtle, just a light scent that lingers in the air and reminds Sam of his mom's favorite tea. She worries about junior prom, and Sam thinks maybe she is waiting for him to ask her on a date, but he's too busy wondering if angels like to dance to stop and consider if he wants this or not.

Sometimes, he likes to think The Angel smells like condensed milk. He can't wait to meet them.

"Hey, Sam!" A cheerful tap on his shoulder drags him out of his thoughts of Anna and Jessica...

Except it's Jess who is standing right there, all blond hair and light pink lipstick. "H-hey, Jess! How are you?"

"I'm fine." She smiles easily at him. "You?"

"Fine, fine!" Sam replies louder than he really has to. Jess just continues to smile, and those five seconds of silence are _excruciating_. "And how are _you_?"

"… You already asked that."

"Ri- right." He desperately looks around them searching for something to talk about. "Do you need help with your history homework? I'm free later-"

"Sam," Jessica interrupts as if she wasn't even listening. "I heard some of the girls talking-"

He raises an eyebrow. "That I'm soul-bonded?"

She looks apologetic. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," he says, smiling. Most people don't have a face to link with the name, but everyone knows Sam Winchester is soul-bonded. "Everyone talks about it."

"What is it like? If you don't mind me asking." And Jessica looks at him like he's interesting and worth figuring out.

He gulps. "It's just pining, really. Not much to describe."

"Are you registered on one of those websites – what are their names?"

"?" A few people throughout the years have told him about the website, and he even goes around saying he's registered to keep up appearances. "Yeah, but nothing so far. I'm not too worried, though." He shrugs.

"Are you… _saving_ yourself?"

"Like a damsel in the 19th century? Not so much, no." He tries not to think on the fact he never even _thought_ of kissing anyone before Jess and how it contradicts this statement. 

Jessica laughs, and it sounds great, light and cheerful like everything about her. "I'm sort of glad."

The hallway is empty as she rests a delicate hand on his arm and kisses the corner of his lips. It lasts a second, only long enough for his heart to try and escape his body through his mouth.

She smiles shyly, and Sam presses their mouths together again, clumsy and dry, before he can chicken out of this. He tries not to think about how good it feels to jerk off thinking about thick feathers and warm light, of how every time fantasizing about ethereal – _airy_ - sex feels so much better than thoughts of boobs and skin and Jessica.

Sam has a soul-mate. They are out there, and one day he'll have to look them in the eye and say he kissed Jessica Moore even thought something inside him begged him not to.

He's in love. He just doesn't know with whom yet.

He draws away just as she holds his shoulder to deepen the kiss.

"Sam?"

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, completely embarrassed and running a hand though his hair. "I like you, Jess, but I just-"

She nods, looking away. "But you love someone else."

"It just feels like I'm cheating-"

"No, it's okay," she says, looking at the floor. She adjusts her bag on her shoulder as she walks away. "I get it, Sam. We're okay."

After that, Jess stops asking him for help on her history homework, and next thing he knows, it's been months since they last spoke to each other.


	3. There ARE Angels in This Angel Story

**Part 3: There **_**Are**_** Angels in This Angel Story, Right?**

*º*º*

The angels come again for his 17th birthday. Uriel looks exactly the same - to the last fiber of his clothes - as he was 10 years before, and from the way his eyes roam through their things, the last decade did nothing to improve his views on the human way of life. The angel following behind him seems more curious than disapproving as he stares with big, awed eyes at the colored glass of the small window of the door.

Sam doesn't remember ever seeing someone like this second angel. His eyes are a shade of blue so otherworldly there would be absolutely no question he is ethereal, even if his enormous black wings didn't give him away. Sam is no expert, although he did spend the last few years buying every angel-related book he could get his hands on, but he remembers reading that feathers of darker colors are very rare to find, the more common being white and honey-colored ones. He can't remember if it's the size of the wings or the feathers that is supposed to represent the rank of the angel.

"Samuel Winchester," Uriel says. "You remember me." It isn't a question. "This is my brother, Castiel. He insisted on coming."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Samuel," Castiel's voice is deep and rough. Sam thinks he sounds just like the actors playing angels in the movies. "You're famous among my brothers and sisters."

_Not the angels too…_ "Just Sam is fine," he says with a weak smile. "Do you guys mind calling next time?"

"'Calling'?" Castiel inclines his head to the side a little.

"We do not have cell phones." Uriel looks at him with distaste. Sam sighs. At least they knocked first.

"Sam, who-" Dean comes from the kitchen and stops when he sees their guests. His eyes travel Castiel's body from head to toes, and he grins. "_Hello_ _there_."

Sam makes a constipated noise. His brother never misses the opportunity to hit on anyone with a pretty face, but he'd thought Dean would draw the line at someone from a different _plane of existence_. All that is missing are some wolf whistles so Sam can die of embarrassment and finally be beyond this veil of tears.

"You got secret angel friends, Sammy?"

"I don't; they just showed up. This is my brother, Dean," Sam introduces him and hopes the angels won't take flirting as an insult.

Uriel only acknowledges the human with a nod, but Dean doesn't seem to mind, for he passes right by the first angel to stop in front of Castiel. "Dean, the cute brother," he says, extending his hand.

The angel looks at the hand being offered to him like he's trying to remember what he's supposed to do with it. Uriel murmurs something that sounds like 'shake it', and Castiel finally does. "My name is Castiel."

"We come in the name of the Hunters." Uriel doesn't waste any more time, crossing his arms like he can't wait to leave. "When you turn 18, you may become a Hunter, if you so wish."

Sam doesn't know what to say to that. He still doesn't know what he wants for his life, but he also never expected angels to show up with a job proposal.

"This organization is the only contact angels have on this Plane," Castiel tells him, turning away from Dean in favor of staring at Sam with an intensity that makes him uncomfortable. "Aside from them, most humans will never interact with our kind."

He thinks about the implications of this. "I see."

"Right, I'll be working on the Impala if you need me," Dean tells Sam, looking sort of disappointed Castiel has already forgotten he exists.

His brother leaves, and Sam gestures to the couch. Both angels just blink at him.

"Would you guys like to sit down?" he tries.

"No," they both say, just standing there stoically.

"Well…" He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Who sent you here?"

"The Hunters," Uriel repeats, unamused.

"But why would they care?" Sam asks.

"They have employed angels' mates before," Castiel tells him, but it still doesn't feel like an answer to his question.

Sam approaches Castiel, knowing Uriel doesn't care about him. Castiel came here of his own volition. He _insisted_ on coming. "Who really sent you here?" he asks, eyes pleading for the angel to just answer and get this over with, this doubt that The Angel may or may not know Sam exists, that they may or may not be offering him the chance of meeting them.

"It is as close as you will get to angels." It's all Castiel has to offer, looking at the floor like he feels bad for not giving the answer Sam longs to hear.

"Not all positions are dangerous," Uriel tells him. "The Hunters don't only require field work. There are tactical teams, detectives, researches, lawyers. You can take your pick."

Sam doesn't want any of those. He just wants to face his mate and move on.

*º*º*

"Hello," a deep male voice says from Dean's right.

It's Castiel, and he came alone. Dean grins, closing the hood of his car.

"Hi there, Mr. Angel dude." He cleans the oil from his hands, liking the way the angel's eyes closely watch him do this. Out here in the sun, his black wings look magnificent, huge and wild with feathers sticking out everywhere like someone just grabbed and pulled at them. 

Dean wants to touch. Badly. And he was never any good at denying his urges.

He skipped most of his classes about angel lore, so he doesn't know if it's a good idea to try and touch the wings in a casual way, like he would a shoulder. He's never seen this happen in movies; maybe it's forbidden, and he'd be struck by lightning or some such overkill. He decides to go with a compliment. "Big wings you got there."

Castiel freezes, his wings wincing and shrinking behind his back. "… Thank you."

Okay, not a good a reaction. Dean scratches his head.

"You done talking to Sammy?" he asks, trying to look for something interesting to say that will make him stay longer.

The angel stares at him for a long moment. Surprisingly, it doesn't feel so awkward to have all this attention for himself. "Are you not happy for your brother?"

Dean gives him the suspicious eye. Did Castiel just use mojo on him to read his thoughts?

"That he's going to join the most dangerous profession known to man so that _maybe_ he'll meet the asshole angel who soul-raped him?" Dean spits out the words before he can stop himself. "No, I'm not all that happy…"

Castiel is blinking at him as if he doesn't know if he should be shocked and affronted or just find the human endearing, like a pet. "There was never any… _soul-rape_, as you put it. That does not exist."

Dean wants to punch himself. "I know it doesn't-"

The angel goes on, interrupting him, "Although angels are free to choose their mates, my Father made this union without their agreement just the way He binds human souls together. This angel had as much choice in the matter as your brother. Furthermore, there is no need for them to consummate their wedlock. No hand is forcing Sam to become a Hunter."

"… Sorry, man. I mean, who ever it is, it's one of your brothers or sisters," Dean says after the lecture, not really knowing where to look. "I wouldn't be happy too if someone went around saying shit about Sammy."

Castiel seems happy with this answer, the lines on his forehead relaxing. He looks friendly. "You do not offend me."

"It's just… Sam is not Hunter material," he says, and it's true. His brother is kind and acts like a geek most of the time. Dean can't imagine him fighting monsters. "Hell, even _I_'d make a better Hunter than him."

Castiel eyes brighten at this. Or maybe it's just the angle of the sun. "May I see that for myself?"

And what does _that_ mean? He shrugs. "Sure?"

Suddenly, there is a hand on his forehead, and Dean doesn't know what to do with his own hands. "Your heart is strong," Castiel starts, eyes closed in concentration. "You're loyal, you're brave…You care about others more than you care to admit." He steps back, giving him a minuscule smile. "The Hunters shall rejoice if you join them."

Dean opens his mouth, and the angel keeps on smiling slightly, like he just did something _normal_.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Oh," Castiel says, eyes widening like he just remembered something. "I apologize. Many times I forget your kind doesn't appreciate being touched. I only wanted to see if you have the moral qualities the Hunters seem to value most."

By… reading his mind? Dean feels dumbstruck. "See anything you like?" he tries to flirt in an attempt at regaining some control over the situation.

"I loved everything I saw," Castiel honestly replies to him, looking unembarrassed. "Your soul is beautiful."

Dean has no words. "Is this some sort of angel pick-up line?" Castiel tilts his head at him again, and it suddenly hits him that the angel probably doesn't even _know_ what a pick-up line is. "Anything else, since this is already a tea-drinking, share-your-feelings fest?"

The angel seems conflicted for a moment. Dean realizes too late he's actually about to tell him even more. "God has not given you a soul-mate, and for that you grieve," he says, voice so full of sadness like he understands the pain he saw in the human. He takes a step closer. Dean thinks this is probably another spell, for he can't look away from the angel's face. "But he has given you the capacity to love, and I believe that must mean something good."

Dean snorts. He just got a pep-talk from an angel cosplaying as John Constantine, who gave him the 'your true love is out there somewhere' speech after reading his mind to find out he's still hung up on the whole soul-mate BS thing.

He laughs. Half lying on the hood of the Impala, he laughs his ass off while Castiel looks pleased with himself, as if making Dean laugh is a good thing, even if he doesn't understand why it's happening.

*º*º*

The rain outside is thin and sparse, and Sam just might be in love with it.

The smell of wet grass has been intoxicating to Sam since his pre-teens, the light/energy/strange-substance-that-sometimes-ting les inside his body telling him to go outside and roll around in the wet earth like a farm dog. And the yearning isn't even _his_.

Like all the inexplicable urges that come and go without warning, this is only one more item on the ever growing list of 'Things that Belong to The Angel'.

The goddamn Angel who has the upper hand in their non-existent relationship. They can send their lackeys here to keep an eye on him, and all _Sam_ can do is wait like a damsel.

A puff of smoke suddenly takes him away from his musings, sending Sam into a coughing fit. "How is business in Gallifrey going for you, Sammy?" Dean grins.

_Smug asshole_. "It's interesting how you always say I'm the geek, but you are the one bringing up Gallifrey."

Dean averts his eyes to the ceiling. Sam can see the tips of his ears turning red. "Shut up; I read it somewhere online."

Lying on his bed with Dean became a common occurrence on hot summer nights. They might fight all the time - especially concerning his bond – but Sam and his brother share a special thing, a sort of companionship he hopes will never end.

"Man," Dean whines after exhaling the smoke from his lungs. "Angels are so alien."

"Course they are." Sam tries not to make a face at the smell floating around his room. "Most of them don't even live on this Plane."

"Some of them do." Dean watches his cigarette burning down to the filter line before putting it out by crushing the lit end in his ashtray. Sam manages to contain his sigh of relief. "That Balthazar guy in the papers last week. He stole fifty grand in jewelry! I didn't think angels had it in them."

"But that was _one_ angel!" He rolls his eyes. "Most of them have never even been to Earth. Only the ones who work with the Hunters."

Dean stops to consider this. Every time his brother starts thinking too much, Sam is forced to listen to the most stupid things… "Do you think they have houses?" Dean muses out loud. "I think they just stand on power lines like pigeons"

One day, Sam is going to write them down and make a book.

"The angels who came here," his brother continues. "They work for the Hunters."

"I think the Hunters work for _them_," Sam guesses, but it's all uncertain.

"This Hunters thing is cool," Dean decides, putting his hands behind his head. "I could be a good Hunter."

"…" Sam slowly looks at him in the semi-darkness of his room. "Where is this coming from?"

Dean shrugs, smiling. "I don't know. That Castiel guy said something that got me thinking."

"Do you even know what Hunters do?"

"Sure I do!" He grins, legs dangling off the bed. "They pose with their coats blowing in the wind while explosions go off in the background."

"And you think a giant fan follows them around so their coats can always look cool?" Sam goes for a serious face but can't contain a laugh. "Dean, being a Hunter is not like on TV. They're not always the heroes. They're the clean-up team for after the _angels_ save the day."

"But there's a lot of things I could do for them. I could be a mechanic…" he trails off. Sam thinks if Dean really wanted to be a mechanic, he'd do just that and forget about the Hunters. "I got to talk a lot with Castiel that day. He said once the Hunters select you they give you basic training, and after that, if they think you're a worth shit, they might even help you get a degree."

"Do you _want_ a degree?" he asks, doubtful.

"Sam, I'm 21." Dean sighs. "I work at Uncle Bobby's garage as an assistant, and he only gave me the job 'cause I didn't want to stay in the house all day with dad bitching at me and mom all sad 'cause I didn't go to college…" He rubs his forehead like there is a headache coming. "So I said I'd only be working there while I thought about what I wanted to do with my life, and I think this is it."

This is probably the most honest Dean has been about himself since he was 12.

"Since when have you being thinking about this?" Sam turns on his side so he can face his brother. "The Hunters, I mean."

Dean shakes his head. "I really don't know. I think talking to Cas opened my eyes."

Sam snorts his laughter and Dean scowls at him. "Are you sure _you_ are not soul-bonded?"

He can't stop laughing through the entire pillow fight. After he's calmed down - the smell of wet grass still coming from the window - Sam realizes there isn't really much to think about.

College can wait – and Mary would faint if she heard him say this – but his bond is getting more insistent, more overwhelming with the years. This is a chance, and he can't ignore it.

"I'm going to join the Hunters too," he says, and there is no hesitation in his voice.

Dean makes a pained sound. "Sammy-"

"No, Dean."

"Sam, this angel… we don't even know if they wanted this bond, man." They've had this discussion more times than they can count, and it still hurts, even now when Sam might finally meet his mate. "I mean, the other angels know about you, so yours probably knows too. Why haven't they showed up so far?"

"I don't know, Dean." Sam sighs, frustrated. "I'm still 17. I think sending those two angels here was The Angel's way of offering a chance, extending a hand, something like that."

The Angel _must_ know Sam is out there. No one could come up with a better explanation as to how he survived that fall intact without supernatural intervention.

Dean lies by his side for a few more minutes, trying to think of an argument he hasn't used before.

"Well," Dean yawns and gets up. He takes the ashtray, sighing. "That was my last cigarette."

Sam snorts. "No way. Where have I heard that one before?"

"I'm serious this time!" Dean swears. "Cas said I probably can't keep up with their training if I smoke, so…"

Sam rolls around the bed laughing. "One date, and you're already whipped."

The ashes on his bed are so worth it just to see his brother's face going red.

*º*º*

"Dude, you won't believe it!" Dean blurts out as soon as Sam answers the phone. "That Castiel guy is my angel guide!"

"No way," comes his brother's shocked reply. "What are the chances?"

"Don't know, don't care." Dean grins, checking out his reflection in a window nearby. "I'm gonna get me a slice of angel cake."

"_Dean_," Sam shouts. He can feel his brother's bitch face dripping from his voice. "Hitting on your guide will get you fired-"

"He's coming back," he whispers before hanging up. "Wish me luck, Sammy."

Dean gives him his most charming smile as Castiel walks up to him.

"I need to wait for the paperwork," he tells the angel who nods and proceeds to stand absolutely immobile. Dean desperately looks for something to say when Castiel offers nothing. "Are we killing anything today?"

"No," Castiel answers and carries on with his apparently favorite game of creepily staring at him.

"You got other 'students'?" he tries again.

"You're my only ward."

"So you only take one at a time?" The sentence is so obviously a pun, especially with Dean's suggestive tone and raised eyebrow.

Castiel doesn't seem to notice. "This is my first time as a guide."

"Really?" This gets him interested. "What's your usual job?"

The angel just barely smiles. "I smite."

"Right…" Dean tries to smile back. "Well, this is a great help for me! Without an angel I'd have to stay months in a classroom learning stuff the boring way. I didn't even think I was going to get one; they say the wait is, like, a year."

Castiel blinks, nothing on his face changing as he says, "This is not a burden."

This frustrates Dean. How is it possible for someone so alien to get him so hot?

"So, they put you up for human-sitting duties?"

"I volunteered to be your guide." Castiel looks away.

"Why?"

The woman from the administration office comes back with his papers, and Castiel immediately says, "Let us go, Dean."

"Right." He quickly signs the documents and turns to his guide. "I parked my car-"

Castiel holds his arm, and they are not in the Hunters administration building anymore. Powerful wind almost sends him flying back, but the angel holds him tightly. Castiel says a few words in a strange language, and an invisible bubble seems to appear around them, keeping the wind away.

They are on top of a _huge_ cliff with a valley and mountains in the distance, and if he wasn't too busy about to seriously embarrass himself, he'd enjoy the view.

"Wow, dude!" Dean screams, throwing himself on a big chunk of rock and holding on for dear, _sweet_ life. "The hell- _I mean_, this thing is huge!"

Castiel nods with patience. "About 3,600 feet. They call it 'Troll Wall'."

Dean gulps. "What country?"

"Norway."

Dean feels like he just died, and his lips still haven't caught up yet. "What are we doing here?"

"We are going to fly."

"No, no, no-" he desperately repeats, walking to the other side of the rock as if to prevent Castiel from taking him by force. "No more of that zap thing-"

"Not 'zap'," the angel tells him with his small smile. "Actual flight."

It just figures the very first thing the angel asks him to do is the one he fears the most.

"I don't know, man," Dean whines – _says_ – looking down at the beautiful valley and trying to imagine himself in free fall- okay, not helping. "Is it really necessary? This wasn't in the job description."

Dean can already see Castiel writing on his weekly progress report: '_Dean Winchester presented himself to be a total pussy. No more observations_'.

"You don't have to, Dean." The angel looks more and more disappointed, like he thought this was a great idea, and now Dean is going to be the asshole that made a pretty angel sad. "I only thought this exercise in trust could bring us closer together."

_Couldn't we just get a beer?_ he thinks but sighs, defeated. "You ain't gonna let me fall?"

Castiel extends his hand in invitation, and Dean imagines he feels something like an energy emanating from the angel, making him feel good and secure.

"Never," Castiel says, and Dean believes him as he takes his hand.

It would be a lie if he said he hadn't fantasized before about putting his arms around this very same angel and holding on tight. Sure, the setup was usually his bedroom, not a deadly cliff in a Nordic country, but his hands are only two inches away from Castiel's wings joints, and it's suddenly all he can think about.

"Are you prepared?"

"Just do it, man."

Castiel leaps, and Dean finally understands what could possibly feel so good that would drive his brother into jumping from their rooftop when he was six.

*º*º*

Castiel doesn't know how to fire a gun, so he takes Dean to his favorite place in New Zealand to teach him how to feel an angel's Grace and enhance his senses.

He tells Dean to stand with his eyes closed inside a forest and try to feel _something_, and Dean just doesn't understand what that's supposed to be.

"Is this the angel equivalent to Mr. Miyagi's waxing the car technique?"

"… I don't know what that means."

Dean sighs and tries to concentrate. He can hear the cracks and snaps and birds singing, but not whatever it is that he's supposed to pick up on.

He waits what feels like an eternity before there is heat brushing gently on his hand, and Dean freaks out. "What was that?" he asks, turning around to search for it, but it's already gone. "Was that your mojo?"

"My Grace." Castiel nods.

"Why did you do that now?"

"I have been doing it for the past five minutes."

Castiel can barely contain his smile, happy that his first lesson seems to have worked. Dean grins. "Ah, so I can only feel it if I concentrate. Nice."

But it takes him almost 20 minutes after that for him to calm down and stop thinking about how attractive Castiel looked with so much emotion on his face.

"We shall do this every morning," Castiel announces after they're done. "After you have acquired your sustenance, I shall teach you about the creatures we fight, and if you are not too exhausted by night, we shall hunt them."

"Sir, yes, sir."

And they begin Dean's training. Day after day after day he only comes back home to sleep and spend occasional Sundays off - when Dean manages to convince his guide humans also need a moment for themselves.

They climb and walk and watch, Castiel's soothing voice a constant narration over their lessons. By the end of the first month, Dean can feel a shift of air when Castiel zaps into the room. By the second month, he feels Grace trying to comfort him when he's scared, instead of just shrugging off the sudden calm feeling in his chest as being his own doing.

By the sixth month, Dean is addicted to his Grace, asking Castiel on more than one occasion to expand it without offering an explanation as to why. His angel never asks for one.

They have becomes friends, companions beyond their roles of guide and student, and Dean wants more. Even more time together and less space between them. He wants to be allowed to touch his wings, groom them to perfection and then kiss feather by feather before giving his undivided attention to the smooth skin of his back.

And most importantly: he wants Grace without having to ask for it.

*º*º*

It comes to a point of no return when they enter their seventh month of training.

Castiel shows up in his kitchen like he does every morning, without knocking or caring that Dean might have a heart attack from the scare. This time, his feathers are sticking out everywhere, making his wings look wilder than ever.

"Dude, they are a mess," Dean comments around his coffee mug. Castiel always waits for him to finish breakfast before they leave. "Don't you groom them or something?"

"I have not found the time to care for my wings in a while," the angel admits with a sigh. "It is a long process, for they are larger than myself."

"Yeah, they're…" Green eyes stare at them in a daze for a long moment. "Hm, so, I'm not doing anything right now," Dean so casually says. "Want me to help you out with that?"

"Only a mate is allowed to touch their angel's wings. For someone else to do so would feel like a violation," Castiel tells him, avoiding eye contact. "Not even angels touch each other in that manner."

"… So basically it's like I just asked to touch your ass or something?" Dean wants to go back to the past and punch himself for skipping so many classes.

"Yes-" Castiel quickly adds, "But I do not feel insulted. I understand human knowledge on angels is limited and not spread out as it should."

"What's there to know? You guys are people with wings." Dean shrugs, like it's obvious. When he thinks about it, it was this sort of reasoning that made him skip classes about angels in the first place. "The only difference between us is that humans think they're the shit, while angels are pretty sure of it."

The angels shake his head. "It is not that simple. Angels are made of light. We are immortal - although not invincible – and it's not in our nature to have 'casual relationships'. We mate for life."

The word 'mate' catches his attention immediately. He makes the connection between 'immortal' and 'for life' in his head and can't quite believe it.

"So you guys marry _forever_ forever?"

Castiel nods solemnly. "We'd rather die than leave our mates' side. No matter what, we'll always stand by them."

"So, basically," Dean says, putting his mug on the counter and trying not to look too excited. "Even if your mate acts like an asshole for no good reason, you'll still put up with them?"

"That's correct." Castiel nods.

"You won't leave them ever?"

"I believe that's what I just said." The angel's wings give a small flap – a sign Dean has noticed means he's either amused or annoyed. "Surely this isn't surprising for you, as you live in a word where humans have their souls bonded to each other?"

He has been hitting on Cas every opportunity he can get, but so far he's been receiving some pretty mixed signals. Cas never flirts back, but they do stare at lot at each other. The angel has a sort of protective affection for Dean, and he did say his soul was beautiful, and the 'L' word had been thrown around…

When he thinks about it, Castiel was the one who came to him, specifically asked for Dean and never explained why…

Dean has never taken a direct approach due to the fear things will become awkward between them, but the thought that Castiel might find someone for himself - and thus taking away from Dean any chance he might have - drives him mad. He makes a decision before he can change his mind.

"So, how is the process of choosing a mate?" he asks, stepping closer to the angel. "Is there coffee, flowers, the whole nine yards?"

"I don't know. I have never dated or asked someone for intimacy," Castiel admits with his usual unashamed expression, although he seems to blush a little.

"You never had sex," Dean says the words out loud to make sure they're real.

"Never." He feels the need to add, "Neither have most angels. We see no point in having sex with someone who won't eventually become our mate."

This would be totally fucking hot if it weren't for the bad feeling in his gut. What if Cas isn't interested in people that way?

Dean's asshole side always takes control when he thinks he's about to get hurt. He says, without finesse or subtlety, "So you're just going to stay a _virgin_ for life?"

"And the problem with that would be?"

He forces a laugh. "You don't really know what you're missing out on, buddy."

Dean thinks back on all the lies he told to get girls to have sex with him and how shitty he felt afterwards. Sure, sex is great, but even during it there was always something uncomfortable crawling under his skin… and yet, he kept doing it anyway.

He doesn't want Cas ever feeling the way he did, doesn't want him to have sex with strangers – with their dirty hands and sick intentions - but can't quite take back what he just said, even if it feels like deceit to him.

"…" Castiel stares at him, and this is not one of their nice staring contests. The angel looks disappointed, perhaps from the words or Dean's tone of voice, and he finally answers, "I'd rather stay a virgin than have meaningless sex with people I don't care about."

Dean sees red. He never told him that. There is no way for Castiel to know unless he read his mind, saw his memories or whatever the hell angels did to get information. His friend had promised to never do that to him, and Dean would rather be angry than heartbroken.

"You read my mind?"

There is realization on the angel's face that he just gave himself away. "No, I- It was an accident, I never meant to pry-"

"Who I sleep with is none of your fucking business." He storms out of his own house, not caring about their training.

Castiel doesn't come looking for him for the rest of the day.

*º*º*

It shows that the angel is also learning about humanity when Castiel comes for him only the next day, appearing with a distance between them.

Dean is trying to fix a loose connector in the Impala but stops before the impending conversation.

"I apologize, Dean," Castiel starts right away, looking remorseful and sad. Dean wishes he could kiss that expression away. "When I first touched you, the knowledge of your sexual encounters came to me before I could stop it. I had only meant to know of your character. It was not my intention to insult you. Like you said, your activities are none of my concern."

"No, it's-" he murmurs, trying to find something to be mad about so he won't have to forgive him and see how sad he really feels in the end. He can't believe he became this girl who _storms out_ of places. "We're cool."

"I don't believe we are." Castiel shakes his head and steps closer, hesitant – like he's unsure of his welcome. "I'm aware you find me terribly blunt, but I'm afraid I know of no other way."

Dean hearts squeezes painfully. "What is it?" They can't be friends anymore, Dean crossed the line, they are too different, he can't forgive wh-

"I find myself to be in love with you." He clenches his hands on the sides of his body. "When I realized you had already been intimate with others, I felt a terrible emotion inside me that I later realized was jealousy. Thinking about this makes me very upset, and yesterday I couldn't hold my tongue in time… I'm sorry if this changes us."

His mind comes to a halt. The words 'in love with you' ring in his ears, and Dean feels like he's about to throw up his breakfast in the most unromantic display of affection ever witnessed. A declaration like this should make him punch the air and tackle his angel to the ground, except…

Dean needs to buy an Enochian/English dictionary, because they can't possibly be talking about the same thing... "Cas, you understand I've been hitting on you all this time, right?"

"Dean…" Castiel shifts from one foot to the other, and the man has never seen him nervous before. He murmurs, "Angels mate for life… We don't do 'casual'."

And the angel looks at him, so hopeful, so gorgeous, Dean wants to hit himself because both of them have been looking for the same thing all this time.

"Damn it, Cas!" He passes a hand over his head in frustration. "I'm not good at this."

"Try," Castiel pleads, and there is no way Dean can ever deny him, not when he looks about to breakdown.

"I haven't had sex with anyone since I started my training with you," he confesses and hopes their time together has taught the angel this side of humanity too.

"That was seven months ago," Cas points out; his voice sounds awed.

Dean shyly smiles at the floor. "Yeah..."

Cas gives him a dopey smile, one Dean decides looks awesome on his face. "It's not customary for a sexually active man to go seven months without sex."

Deans laughs, covering his face with a hand. This is probably the strangest dating in the history of interspecies relations. "No, it isn't."

"Wait, I need to show you something." The mood sobers as Cas says this, taking a hesitant step forward. He raises a hand, asking for permission to touch. "May I?"

Dean wants to scream 'fuck, no,' but that wouldn't be very good for his plans of kissing this guy sometime today, so he just nods, looking warily at the hand before it touches his forehead.

Like watching a photo being developed, the memory comes to Dean slowly, one bit at a time. There were angels in Sammy's room, watching him sleep, and one of them was just like an angel hero from his favorite cartoon show. His wings were gigantic, and their feathers cascaded over the floor, like shadows, almost blending in with the darkness of the room.

Dean had hugged one of the wings, squeezing it as hard as he could, fingers deep in softness and warmth.

His younger self had kissed the angel's cheek, and Dean really can't come up with a reason as to why his reaction to meeting Castiel is to always drool all over the guy.

Dean has the distant feeling that maybe he should be mad about this – or at least ask how this memory just came back now - but all that comes out of his mouth is, "So, when do we do this bond thing?"

*º*º*

"Seven months, Dean," Sam mocks him on the phone and would probably laugh his ass off if there weren't so many people around.

"Dude, you have no moral ground here," Dean replies. "Waiting for Prince Angel much?"

Sam hangs up on him, because he can, and wonders how it is possible for his brother to have gotten an angel _before_ him.

Showing a receptionist his documentation, he asks where he can find the form for requesting a guiding angel. She points him at an empty hallway with an administration desk.

The man responsible for the desk gives him a tired smile when Sam requests the form.

"You'll need to fill out this application sheet-" he starts but suddenly stops and stares at the table with huge eyes. "I'm sorry, I just remembered I have a lunch break!"

"Okay?" Sam says but the man is already leaving.

Sam watches him walk away, perplexed.

He turns his attention to the form. There are basic questions, like his contact information, and then three pages of questions about his motives for requesting an angel. Sam really doesn't know what to write under 'areas of interest', where he's supposed to list the departments he wants to work with.

The last page of the form is a huge list with departments and positions, together with a small explanation on the top of the page that a 'supernatural detective' can apply for many posts, like the 'spiritual division' or the 'control of were creatures division', so one should be very specific.

Sam massages his head with a hand. People actually do their research before requesting an angel; they don't just get the first bus to the Hunters Organization building as soon as they get their hands on their high school degrees.

"You need to list at least three items," a male voice from somewhere on his right says as a finger points out his mistake. "Right here."

"Oh, right," Sam murmurs. He's pointing to where he should list the reasons he'd rather be trained by an angel. "I don't know what to write…" he admits, more to himself than to the other guy.

"Then maybe you should just write the truth," the other man goes on, uttering the words carefully. "Angels have this thing about honesty; they value it more than fancy words."

From the corner of his eyes, he can see feathers touching the floor.

Sam feels like he can't breathe all of a sudden.

Even though his hands are shaking, and he can't really see what's in front of him anymore, he manages to write, 'I want to meet my bond-mate' three times over.

Keeping his eyes on the desk, he offers the application for the other man to read. "Is this good enough?"

He takes the sheet, and Sam waited years for this – he was ready to wait a lot longer – and now he just wants this to be over.

There is a hand on his shoulder, and Sam looks up to see his mate. It's a short angel with smooth hair and a handsome face. Looking at him for a few seconds, he doesn't know what to make of him – if he's attractive, if he's plain. Sam never felt anything beyond platonic for people of the same sex; maybe this will be over before it even began.

The angel puts a hand on his chest, and something in him _jumps_.

The light inside him that expands when he touches himself now sings with joy, and Sam decides this angel is the most beautiful thing he could have asked for in a partner.

This is it. The thing he's been missing, what he's been waiting for.

Entranced, he cups the man's face with both hands and brushes a finger over his cheekbones. He's so gorgeous, Sam thinks again, with his honey brown eyes and this amazed, awed expression taking over his face.

Like he can't believe Sam is touching him – so tenderly.

"Hi," the angel mumbles.

"Hey." Sam smiles and can't really keep his voice from shaking. "I'm Sam."

"I know," he answers, sounding almost sad.

And it really hits Sam. This is his _mate_.

Something on his face must have shown his thoughts, for the angel removes the hands from his face. "You expected taller?"

So many questions. _How did this happen? Why didn't you stop it? Do I really love you?_

"Why didn't you come for me?" is what comes out.

"I couldn't, Sam." His voice is pained, and he looks away. "You were just a child. I wanted to give you a choice."

"I waited for you," he says. "I'd have waited even longer…"

"I know." And he probably really does. "I waited too."

The angel touches his shoulders with his wing – his perfectly creamy wing – and Sam has to clench his hands so they won't touch it on their own. These are _Sam's wings_, from his dreams…

"If it's worth anything to you, I prayed everyday that you'd choose me," the angel tells him, stepping closer. "Thing is, Sam." Another step. "Before that, I hadn't prayed in over two millennia."

Sam doesn't know what to say or what to do with the questions this rouses in him, how very interested he is in this man.

"I understand that maybe you don't want a more intimate relationship with me. But I was hoping for us to be friends? You have a piece of my Grace with you that I haven't seen in a long time, and quite frankly, I miss it." There is mirth in his voice, his smile is genuine, and Sam loves that his mate has a sense of humor – although he'll still have to find out its extent. 

"What's your name?" he asks, a little bit breathless.

His angel's breath brushes against his lips as he answers, "Gabriel."

And Sam is kissing him, without asking for permission, just taking what's rightfully his, and Gabriel moans into his mouth, holding Sam's shoulders for support.

This is right. Their size difference, Gabriel's wings around them both, and Sam's huge hands. The feel of his mate's determined tongue against his own shy one, the Grace inside him expanding with joy, and the fact that Gabriel doesn't waste any time before squeezing his ass.

They're all right, because God custom made this for them, and Sam thinks He knows what He is doing.

Most of the time.

When they separate, Sam has his arms around his mate's torso – just like they're supposed to be – and he's not planning to let go.

"My father spent my entire life thinking you were an asshole," he warns Gabriel, trying to show he also has a sense of humor. "If you see a shotgun, please don't take it personally."

Gabriel very politely – a Castiel influence – refrains from saying that he can kill Sam's father with his little finger and instead says, "Yeah, bringing your new boyfriend for Christmas might be awkward."

*º*º*

"Wait." Sam breaks off the kiss. "Did you do something to that guy just now?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." The angel gives him a sly smile. "Not my fault he forgot his own lunch break. I mean, can't a guy just help someone around here without false allegations of tampering with-"

Sam is already kissing the grin off his lips again.

*º*º*

**Extra scene: Mommy, Where Do Souls Comes From?**

*º*º*

"The Warehouse of Souls. I was walking there-"

"Wait. Where is that?"

"It's sort of between Heaven and the In Between… It's hard to explain. It's not on Google Maps."

"How big is this building?"

"What building?"

"This warehouse."

"It's not a _building_."

"You said it's a warehouse."

"No, no. Not 'a', '_the'_ Warehouse. It's capitalized because it's the name of a Plane of Existence, like Heaven, not an actual building! We just call it that because we store souls there."

"Well, how was I supposed to know it's capitalized?"

"Don't they teach this at school?"

"No, I don't think this is common knowledge. I never even thought the souls were _stored_ somewhere. I always assumed they just came into existence."

"Like 'Spontaneous Generation'? Are you insane?"

"Not Abiogenesis! I thought, you know…"

"Nope, Sam. I don't know."

"Like, the soul is created when the baby is born… Like, inside the baby?"

"…You humans are such naïve little creatures, hm?"

*º*º*

_Final notes: Thank you so SO much for the amazing feedback you guys have been giving me! All the reviews (both on LJ and on ), all the "favorite story +", the "author alert +", and God know what else!_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_A special kiss to __Kodamasama for her eternal patience! She just works so hard to beta my stories! (Seriously, without her, no one would be able to understand a word I write.)_

_A huge thanks to Cybel who did the art for this story! Her work is great, go check it out if you haven't yet:_ _ . _

_Later on, I think I'll write extra scenes for this story. There was a lot I couldn't add because of the deadline. So sad…_

_Also, Jenova is the villain of Final Fantasy VII __(a little something for all the other geeks out there!)._ _Just saying before someone thinks this is a misspelling._

_Many kisses!_


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